A Rose for Sherlock
by theartstudentyouhate
Summary: After a horrific murder involving Sebastian Moran, Sherlock is left in charge of fifteen year old Rose Mansfield. Will Sherlock be able to look after the girl and allow her to love him and he to love her all while solving the case. Rated T for graphic murder scene and some language (I hope to have a mario kart scene, so you understand)
1. Chapter 1

**So this is my first-ever fanfiction. I'm terribly nervous and terribly excited. This story buzzed around my head and wouldn't leave, so I figured "What the hell?" and give it a try. I hope that you all like it. Oh, God... I'm freaking out. OK. I am a Canadian, so most of the British spelling is fairly normal for me, although my computer doesn't seem to think so. If you are British and come across something that's North American, forgive my ignorance, but I wanted to try to make this as English as I , my sister came up with the title, so although she will probably not read this, thanks. One last thing, this isn't Beta'd. It's all my mistakes. Alright. So I don't own any Characters besides Rose and her mother and um... here we go.**

**Chapter One**

Rose stood on the doorstep of 221b Baker Street and impatiently fidgeted with the DVD case she held in her hands. She was just about to give up when the door was opened by a kind looking, older woman. "Hello. Can I help you?" She smiled at Rose.

"Yes." She replied hesitantly. "I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes. I have a case for him."

"Oh yes. Of course. Come in, Love. He's just upstairs." Rose followed the older woman up the staircase. She then knocked at the door once and opened the door with a quick "Yoo hoo. Sherlock dear, you have a client. An American one." She whispered excitedly.

"Canadian, actually." Rose corrected her, still standing in the doorway.

"Yes. Thank you Mrs. Hudson. Do close the door on the way out." Replied the deep, baritone voice. Mrs. Hudson, as Rose now knew her name, smiled at her once more and left the room, closing the door. Rose at once felt timid in the very large presence of Sherlock Holmes, but both the look on his face and her need of finding her mother, told her that, that would be an unwise choice. She quickly gulped and summoned all of her courage.

"Mr. Holmes. I'm Rose Mansfield and my Mother has gone missing. I woke up this morning and she wasn't there. She's never done that before and I tried calling her cellphone, but it went straight to voice mail. When I was looking for her, I found this on the kitchen table." She indicated to the DVD in her hand. "It wasn't there last night and it had your name on it. I figured that I should come directly to you."

"Wise choice." Sherlock noted that she seemed fairly young 15 or 16 at the most. "You've been here for three weeks."

"Four." She corrected.

"Hmmm." He replied while closely looking over the DVD. "Generic DVD and case. Male's handwriting. No fingerprints." He thought to himself.

"Well I suppose we should have a look, shall we?" Rose nodded her head while chewing on her bottom lip. Sherlock pulled out his laptop and quickly put the DVD on while Rose came around his chair to watch the video. The video was dark and obviously taken at night outside. Suddenly a person tied to a chair came into view although it was to dark to see who it was. A voice started to speak.

"Hello Sherlock. My, my it has been awhile. You've been waiting around ever since that little "Did you miss me" prank haven't you. Well, I hope that I don't disappoint. Of course I am a bit more impatient then Jim ever was. He loved playing games, but I tire of them rather quickly. So instead of giving you time to find the person, I'll let you solve their murder." A light suddenly lit up the face of the person sitting in the chair. Rose gasped at the bleary eyed, red face of her mother.

"Mom." She breathed out.

Someone from off screen then stepped in behind her mother with their head out of frame. They raised their arm in front of her mother while holding a large knife. Sherlock was quietly focused on the screen and saw that it was a generic kitchen knife. Nothing to go on from there. Although he could tell that the person was a male and sturdily built. He couldn't tell exactly how tall the person was, but guessed them to be 5'11". Suddenly with an expert hand, the person brought the knife up and sliced through the woman's throat. "No!" Rose yelled out and backed away from the screen as it went blank. Sherlock quickly turned to see Rose back up in to the window. She had her hand raised to her mouth trying to hold in the sob that was tearing at her throat. "Oh God. Oh God, no." She whispered. Sherlock had seen people murdered and had seen slit throats, but he had never watched someone's life crumble before his eyes. He had come close on the rooftop, saying goodbye to John. But now he watched as this girl's only family, the only person she had in the world, was taken away from her because some psychopath had it out for him. It was then that he noticed that along with her world, Rose had started to crumble with it.

Rose felt light-headed and dizzy. She couldn't breathe, couldn't hear, couldn't see, and she couldn't stand. Somewhere in the back of her mind she braced herself for the oncoming impact of the floor, but oddly enough it never came. She was vaguely aware that two strong arms had scooped her up before she could hit the floor and laid her on the sofa instead. All of a sudden all of her senses came rushing back to her. Everything was too loud; the sofa seemed to scrape her skin; the natural light seeping through the window was too bright; and with a gasp of breath, it somehow felt as if there was too much oxygen in the room. She rushed to sit up and grab something, anything to hold onto. She felt fabric under her fingertips and blindly grasped for it, while the other hand grabbed a muscular arm. She registered that whatever she was holding moved onto the sofa beside her and she instinctively curled into it. Burying her face into what she now realised was a dress shirt.

Sherlock was at a loss. He was never good at comforting someone and he had never dealt well with too much physical contact. Since the fall, Sherlock had come to realize that sympathy was not quite the danger he had once considered it and looking at this poor girl he doubted if even Mycroft would be able to remain completely detached and aloof. So Sherlock did the only thing that seemed would help her. The thing she seemed to crave. He wrapped his arms around her and held her. He didn't say anything. He couldn't say that everything would be alright. He couldn't make promises to her right now, but with his simple gesture of holding her close, he hoped to explain that he would do everything he could to keep her safe and to catch this man. He slowly started to move his hand up and down her back when he noticed her shivering and leaned in closer. Somewhere he registered that she smelled nice. Of roses. How fitting.

When she seemed to stop shivering a bit, he started to move away, but she held on tighter. "I was just going to make some tea." Sherlock looked helplessly at the girl.

"Please. Please don't go." She whispered. Sherlock silently nodded and held her closer once again.

"Mrs. Hudson!" He yelled. He heard the light patter of her footsteps on the floor. Foregoing the usual greeting, she slipped inside the door and stared in silent wonderment at Sherlock. If she didn't know better, she'd say that he was comforting her. "I believe we will need some tea." He said quietly. "If you wouldn't mind." He added even quieter while looking down at the floor and softly patting the girl's brown, wavy hair.

"Yes. Yes, of course." She said, still quite stunned. With that, she hurried off to the kitchen. Sherlock then pulled his mobile out of his pocket, believing it to be in bad taste if he were to ask her to retrieve it for him.

"Sherlock! What the bloody hell do you want? We just got Kensie to go to sleep." Usually Sherlock would have some witty retort to fire back at John, but he couldn't be bothered to right now.

"John, I need you to come to Baker Street. Call Lestrade and have him come too." Hearing Sherlock's somber tone made John realise that something very bad must have happened.

"Yes. I'll be there right away." Sherlock hung up his phone and put it back in his pocket and replaced his hand to the back of Rose's head. Sherlock shouldn't be OK with this. He should remain distant if he wanted to solve this case, but something inside him wanted to hold Rose and keep her warm. He wanted to hide her away from this dreadful world he knew all too well. So, he merely waited for John.

Twenty minutes later and the front door could be heard opening followed by the sound of John's footsteps hurrying up the stairs. "What's the matter?" John practically yelled before the door was fully open. The sight in front of him was just as shocking if it had instead been a pirate swinging a cutlass at Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson sat nervously in his chair sipping tea while staring at Sherlock who had his arms wrapped around a girl in a comforting gesture. Sherlock looked up at John.

"Ah. Yes. John. If you wouldn't mind seeing me in the kitchen. Miss Mansfield, I'll only be a moment." Rose whimpered and held tighter to Sherlock. Rose was angry at herself. She was better than this. Stronger than this. She should feel ashamed for clinging to a man she hardly knew. Refusing to let go so that she could cry into his shirt that she was rapidly staining. But he was so warm and he smelt so good. He seemed to be the only thing good left in this world. "I'm truly sorry Miss Mansfield, but I really must go speak to Dr. Watson. Mrs. Hudson, would you mind sitting with her?"

"Yes of course." She said quickly putting down her cup of tea. Rose reluctantly let go of Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson took his place. She immediately wrapped her arms around the small girl and kissed her forehead, telling her that it was alright.

Just as Sherlock and John were about to go into the kitchen, Lestrade burst through the open door, quickly followed by Sally Donovan, a few officers, and two paramedics. "Ah. Lestrade. Good, I won't have to explain myself twice." He said replacing his usually stony expression while putting on his suit jacket to hide the spot that was wet with tears. "Follow me." He said while striding towards the kitchen. Greg and John shared a concerned glance at each other before following after Sherlock.

The paramedics quickly swooped in and checked Rose's vital signs. Asking if she felt dizzy or faint. If felt terrifying out of the arms of Sherlock and then Mrs. Hudson. She had a hard time focusing and worried that she would somehow get the questions wrong. When it seemed that they had finally gotten their fill of questions, they put a blanket around her shoulders and left to go wait with the fellow officers who were waiting for instructions outside of the flat. Sally Donovan quickly swooped in and asked her to repeat what had happened. Rose stammered out the story while Mrs. Hudson looked on nervously while trying to subtly dry her eyes. After she finished her story; Sargent Donovan, as she introduced herself, gave her a small, sympathetic smile and asked her how long she had lived in England and did she have any family that she could move in with. When she answered the question with the negative, Sargent Donovan lightly touched the back of her hand and said that she had to make a few calls. With that, she left the room. While Rose had been telling the police Sargent what had happened, Mrs. Hudson had left without Rose noticing. It had gotten too much for her to bear quietly, so she went down to her flat to distract herself by getting biscuits for the officers. Rose sighed and wrapped the blanket tighter around her while she grabbed for the tea that Mrs. Hudson had set on the table in front of her while Sherlock had been sitting with her.

"Jesus, Sherlock." John said.

"So you mean to tell me that, that girl" Greg gestured to the living room "just watched her mother get murdered because there's some nut job out to get you?" Greg asked exasperatedly.

"Well, we can't be sure that her mother was actually murdered until we have some further evidence, but that was definitely her mother on the video."

"But what the hell does she have to do with it? Why go after her?" Asked John. John had seen many terrible things; the horrors of war, gruesome murder scenes, even his best friend jumping off of a building; but he couldn't imagine what it would be like to watch someone so close to you, murdered in cold blood. He had to push away the thought of his daughter, Kensie, growing up without a mother.

"I don't know." Replied Sherlock turning away and running his fingers through his hair. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Well, we'll need a copy of that DVD for evidence, Sherlock. I'll have someone in the lab try to determine where it was taken."

"Yes. I'll do my own research on the disc as well to figure that out quicker." Greg rolled his eyes while John tried to convey that, that really wasn't appropriate right now. Sherlock ignored him. "I'll make a copy as soon as possible. Right now I need to find Mrs. Hudson and get her to make up your old room." He said, gesturing to John.

"Why does she need to make up my old room?"

"Miss Mansfield is going to have to stay here, obviously. She hasn't anywhere else to go and this is the safest spot for her as well." Sherlock rolled his eyes, wishing yet again that people would not only see, but observe. He was so tired of wasting time explaining obvious things to people.

"Really, Sherlock? Don't you think that, that is a bit inappropriate? The press is going to have a bloody field day with this." Greg stared incredulously at Sherlock.

"Oh, for God's sakes!" Sherlock was raising his voice now. "She's 15 and has nowhere else to bloody well go! What am I going to do, cast her out on the street saying "I do hope that you can find someway to protect yourself from some bloody psychopath that very well could have murdered your mother!""

"Shhh, Sherlock. Don't yell that out for her to hear you." John tried desperately, but Sherlock was no longer paying attention as he was interrupted by the sound of porcelain rattling together. Ignoring the other two men in the room he quickly strode out of the kitchen.

He found her in the living room, all alone and shaking so badly he thought that she might break the cup and saucer in her hand from it rattling together. He quickly went to her and took the cup out of her hand and set it on the table. He wrapped her into his arms and held her close. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS SHE DOING HERE ALL ALONE?" He yelled to the room in general. John and Lestrade raced into the living room.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKES!" Lestrade roared storming out of the flat to tear into the idiot police officers outside.

"Shhhh. Shhhhh. Please don't cry. I'm here now. I'm here. I'm sorry that I left you. You should never have been left alone." Sherlock mumbled into her hair, trying desperately to comfort her again. John just stared at the scene in front of him. Usually it took Sherlock being a huge prat in order to have him even consider apologising for something, but this wasn't even his fault. It was something that couldn't be avoided. He had met this girl only hours ago and he had already done something extraordinarily unlike himself for her. Something about this girl was special. He didn't know what, but it seemed to be something good.

**So please let me know if you dig this at all. I have some more written and somewhat ready to post. If you're interested at all, you can find me on tumblr at theartstudentyouhate.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, so here is the next chapter. I have some more written and pretty much ready to go, I wanted to make sure to have a big chunk of this done before I actually posted any of it. I hope that you enjoy it and feel free to let me know what you think. Again, I don't own any of the characters, expect for Rose.**

Rose shook as she once again buried herself into Sherlock's side. Sherlock held her close without hesitation this time and mumbled soothing things against the top of her head. After she had finally stopped shaking quite so much, Sherlock picked up the cup of tea and held it to her lips to help her drink. She felt so helpless, but didn't know what else to do and the tea was so soothing that she didn't protest the help. He set the tea back on the table and she whispered a quite "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He quietly replied pulling her close to his chest again. The sound of his steady, beating heart, calmed her until she felt ready to sleep. So much had happened in the past few hours that she felt completely drained of energy. She felt like lying in bed for a year.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, there came a familiar, although quieter "Yoo hoo" at the door. With a single knock, Mrs. Hudson let herself in. "Sherlock. This is Ms. Roberts. She's from Child and Family Services. She said that she needs to speak with you and Rose." Ms. Roberts quickly strode into the living room looking every bit the serious business woman.

"Good evening, Mr. Holmes." She said while extending her hand towards him. He promptly ignored the gesture. "I'm here to collect Miss Mansfield. We have a foster home waiting to take her in for the night and with any luck will find her a suitable long term residence soon."

"There's no need to worry about that. Miss Mansfield will be staying here. I have an extra room and it will be the safest place for her to stay." He said eyeing her. Looking like a tiger waiting to pounce. Rose stared at the woman with wide eyes. Not being able to fully interpret what she was hearing. She was supposed to go to a foster home, but now Sherlock was saying that she was going to live with him.

"That's a very generous offer, Mr. Holmes, but you must understand that I cannot simply allow her to stay with anyone."

"She's not staying with _anyone_. She's staying with me. Do you honestly believe that you'll be able to properly keep her safe?"

"We have a very secure foster home waiting for her and we will have police stationed outside of the house all night."

"That's not good enough." Sherlock growled out through gritted teeth.

"Well it will have to be, Mr. Holmes. I cannot go against regulation and I have to look out for her best interests." John looked worriedly at his friend. Just when it seemed like he would have to intervene before Sherlock tore her throat out, Sherlock spoke, grounding out every word while staring daggers at Ms. Roberts.

"John. Get Mycroft on the phone."

"Huh. Oh, uh, yeah." John was to worried to argue and quickly pulled up Mycroft's number. As soon he pressed the button he handed it to Sherlock, knowing that Mycroft would pick it up on the first ring.

"Mycroft. I need you to come to Baker Street immediately." He said not bothering to let his brother speak at all before hanging up and not taking his eyes off of Ms. Roberts. Ms. Roberts, on her part, was holding up surprisingly well. Not achieving the level of glare that Sherlock could, but not shifting uncomfortably under his gaze as well. Usually John would be impressed with someone not cowering under the gaze of Sherlock Holmes, but right now he just saw it as a hindrance. He agreed that putting Rose into Foster care would not keep her safe and as difficult as Sherlock could be, he knew that he would do everything he could to keep the girl safe. If anyone else had looked in on the situation they would have said that he was acting fatherly, but that seemed so unlike anything that he knew about Sherlock that the thought didn't even enter his mind.

John sat in his chair and waited for Mycroft to come. It was the longest ten minutes of his life. Poor Rose looked between Sherlock and Ms. Roberts and seemed to silently plead with Sherlock to not let Ms. Roberts take her. Sherlock kept staring daggers at the woman in question while he held Rose tightly to him. His body language seemed so distanced from his cold, stony face. His arms seemed to curl naturally around Rose. The rest of his body shielding her from this seemingly heartless woman. Ms. Roberts didn't waver under his glare on looking down to pick at her nails or look at her phone. She looked quite bored.

Finally the familiar patter of Mycroft's step was heard on the staircase. Upon entering the room, Mycroft put on his most superior expression and drawled out "My dear brother, what on earth have you done now?" He looked smugly at his younger brother. Sherlock didn't bother to look up at his brother as he said

"I need you to convince this woman that Miss Mansfield must stay here. It is the safest place for her, never mind the fact that relocating her to a foster home now could have devastating psychological effects." Mycroft looked quite surprised, which an expression not easily found on Mycroft Holmes' face.

"Doctor Watson. If you would be so kind as to join me in the kitchen. Perhaps you could explain the situation a bit better." John didn't say anything as he stood and followed Mycroft to the kitchen. Sherlock's glare did not falter as Mrs. Hudson came in bringing another pot of tea.

"Sorry for disturbing you Sherlock, but I thought that Ms. Roberts would like some tea..."

"Ms. Roberts will not be having any tea, but if you could please refill Miss Mansfield's cup that would be very much appreciated."

"Oh. Of course." She twittered, flitting Ms. Roberts a nervous glance.

"And if you wouldn't mind preparing John's old bed for Miss Mansfield. She'll be staying here for the next while." Ms. Roberts raised an eyebrow at that but didn't say anything. Rose quietly picked up her teacup and took a tentative sip. As Mrs. Hudson left the room to go upstairs, Mycroft and John reentered.

"Ms. Roberts. Would you please escort me to the kitchen. I wish to have a word." Mycroft said looking down his nose at her. Ms. Roberts quietly stood up and went to join Mycroft.

"Please don't let her take me." Rose whispered once they left the room.

"She's not going to take you. I wouldn't allow it and now we have the British government on our side."

"How do we know he's on our side? He didn't react at all when I told him what happened." John interjected.

"While my brother may be referred to as the iceman, I promise you that he is not completely heartless and would not let a young girl suffer needlessly when a solution is so readily available." Rose finally let go of Sherlock and rubbed her face with her hands.

"I can't believe that this is happening. We just moved here because Mom got a job and now... Oh God."

Mycroft and Ms. Roberts walked back into the living room, Ms. Roberts with her face decidedly less smug. "Well Sherlock. I believe that the we have found a solution for right now. Miss Mansfield here, will stay with you until her Mother is either found or proven dead." His voice got a tiny bit quieter on the last word. His face a fair bit more morose. "If found alive she will be returned to her mother once her mother is in good health and I will make sure to have men stationed outside of the house and keeping a close watch on her twenty-four hours a day. If... her mother's body is found, Miss Mansfield will be placed into foster care with the hope of being adopted and I will of course offer all of the same protection for her." Rose looked up at Mycroft and worried her lip. Mycroft could feel his heart breaking for the poor girl in front of him and had to work harder at his resolve to not show any outwards emotions. Ms. Roberts had been gathering up some paperwork and a pen while Mycroft was talking and was now holding it out to Sherlock to sign.

"This is just an agreement that you promise to look after all of her needs and whatnot for however long Miss Mansfield will be staying with you." Sherlock took the pen and papers from her signing quickly where it was needed. The faster he had this Ms. Richards or whatever her name was, out of his flat, the faster he could see to it that Rose was taken care of and the more time he would have to catch this madman. Something about the thought of Rose not staying with him left a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Well, that should be it. Miss Mansfield. Here is my card if you should need to call me at all." She placed the card down in front of her. "Good evening Gentlemen. I'll show my self out." She said and walked out of the door. As soon as the door clicked shut everyone seemed to let out a collective breath that they had been holding. Rose picked up the business card from the table and proceeded to rip it into as many pieces as possible.

"She was awful. I wouldn't call her even if I needed too."

"Hmmm." Sherlock replied while allowing himself to give her a half smile. 'Even in the face of her mother's death she can hold her own.' He thought to himself. She was an interesting girl.

"Mr. Holmes." Rose called breaking Mycroft out of his daze. "Thank you very much for helping me. I don't know what you did, but I really can't thank you enough."

"Think nothing of it, Dear. What is important is that we keep you safe and work on finding this madman." He smiled grimly at her.

"And thank you Mr. Holmes." She said turning to Sherlock. "I'm so sorry that I'll be invading your space for awhile. I know that it was never your plan to have teenagers living at your house."

"It's no problem. Really. It's merely the most convenient place to keep you safe." He said returning to his usual expressionless state.

"Rose, Darling." Mrs. Hudson called from the bottom of the steps. "Your bed is ready for you dear."

"Oh. I ummm... I don't have any clothes."

"I've sent my assistant to go fetch your clothes. She should be here shortly."

"Oh my word. You have thought of everything. Thank you Mr. Holmes."

"It's no trouble. Now why don't you go take a shower and get cleaned up and by the time you get out my assistant will have brought all of your things."

"Yes I think that sounds good. Thanks."

"Towels are top left cupboard Miss Mansfield." Sherlock said, not looking at her as she started walking to the washroom. She stopped and turned to face Sherlock.

"Thank you Mr. Holmes. You can call me Rose if you want."

"Very well. You may call me Sherlock, if you prefer it." Sherlock said staring straight ahead. Out of his peripheral vision he saw her give a small smile and small nod.

"Thank you Sherlock." She turned around again and walked over to where Mycroft was standing. "That goes for you as well Mr. Holmes."

"Of course, Rose. If that is what you prefer."

"Thank you again Mr. Holmes." And to everyone's surprise, she rose up on her toes and wrapped her slender arms around Mycroft's shoulders and planted a light kiss on his right cheek. She quickly lowered back down and turned around again. "Of course that goes for you as well Doctor Watson."

"Call me John, Rose."

"Goodnight John and thank you. Your presence helped calm everyone. I suppose I won't see Mr. Holmes or John when I get out so, goodnight," She turned and walked to the bathroom and closed the door.

Sherlock and John both turned to look at each other and then at Mycroft. Mycroft was still staring at the bathroom door that Rose had disappeared behind and had his hand up to the spot on his cheek that she had kissed. Sherlock cleared his throat and Mycroft quickly turned around to look at the other two men in the room, looking surprisingly pink. Sherlock and John had to suppress a smirk as Mycroft looked deeply uncomfortable. "So..." Said John turning the mood somber. "What are we going to do? Who would do something like this?"

"I believe that I may have an answer for that." Mycroft replied trying desperately to regain some composure. "One of the sharpshooters that worked for Moriarty was found before the fall and was believed to be bought off. It was not until very recently when he was discovered to also be his lover as they were caught on CCTV camera in quite a... compromising position a few years ago. Unfortunately this had gone undiscovered for sometime because the Sharpshooters face was out of view and it took quite awhile to get a match. His name is Sebastian Moran. He's an ex army corporal who was discharged about eight years back. We have yet to figure out his motive behind this..."

"Wait! So you're telling me that you bought a sharpshooter off and you weren't keeping an eye on him?" John was livid. His face was turning red and he was clenching his hands into fists.

"I can assure you that we were keeping a very close eye on him," Mycroft said, hoping to restore order to situation. "He didn't seem to be doing much these past few years. I was told this morning that Moran had escaped from our view and that his last known whereabouts were just outside of his flat at one o'clock this morning. I admit that I should have been told much sooner of such a breech in security and the situation will be dealt with accordingly."

"Yes, well that 'breech of security.'" Sherlock said, let the sarcasm drip out of his mouth. "Has gotten an innocent woman killed and left an adolescent parent-less." While Sherlock tried to look calm, bits of his fury were seeping through the cracks of his facade.

"Yes." Mycroft didn't bother trying to make a retort back to this statement. He felt awful. He felt absolutely miserable and astoundingly guilty. Mycroft didn't often feel guilt, but when it dealt with innocent lives at stake, even he was not immune.

"So what do we do?" Asked John quietly.

"Keep her here. Work on the case steadily. Watch her like a hawk. Moran won't want to wait long before he makes another move." Sherlock replied. He didn't hold any of his usual mirth or excitement for this case. In truth he seemed sad and somewhat angry.

"Umm sooo, what happens if we don't find a body."

"Moran won't let that happen. In all honesty, I don't believe that he would have faked her mother's death. He's impatient. He doesn't like playing games. That's what he said on the video." Sherlock replied while working on his laptop.

"Ok. Ummm... sooo... what happens if we find a body. She'll go into foster care."

"I'll adopt her." Sherlock replied easily. Almost as if stating that the sky was blue. John stared at him incredulously while Mycroft sucked in a sharp breathe and straightened his posture.

"What do you mean "You'll adopt her?""

"I mean exactly what I said. When and if we should find her mother's body, I'll adopt Rose. Mycroft I may need your help with that bit. They might not look too kindly on my past record." He said never letting his eyes stray from the screen.

"Sherlock you do understand what that entails? You'll be responsible for her until she turns 18. This is another human's life. She will depend on you. She's a teenage girl, Sherlock. You'll have to deal with feelings and..."

"Don't you think that I know that John? The thought of someone depending on me terrifies me in way that I've never felt before. I know that she'll want to date and I'm going to have to deal with crying and menstruation cycles and terrible music, but I'm also terrified at the thought of what would happen if I let her go into foster care. I would never be able to keep her safe that way and something could easily happen to her. Never mind the fact that her chances of getting adopted are slim to none. So as soon as she turns 18 she is out of the system and expected to take care of herself. For some reason this is my fault and if anything should happen to her I'll..." Sherlock trailed off as his hand clenched into a fist. "Damn!" He exclaimed as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Ok Sherlock. I'm sorry. I understand. I promise to try and help you. Mary will help too, I'm sure." John looked guilty. Mycroft quickly spoke up.

"Of course, you'll have my full support as well, Brother Dear."

Just then "Anthea" walked through the door with a man in a suit carrying a flowered suitcase, following closely. "The car is here, Sir." She said without looking up from her phone.

"Ah. Yes. Thank you ." Trust Anthea to have perfect timing. Just when things were getting far too emotional for the two Holmes men. "Well I suppose that we've done all that we can do for tonight. I'll stop by tomorrow to check on her." Sherlock was about to tell him that, that wouldn't be necessary, but realised that Rose would probably want to see him.

"Ah. Mycroft. Do drop this off at Scotland Yard on your way back; would you." Sherlock held out a USB port containing a copy of the DVD while putting on his most innocent face. Mycroft gave a tight-lipped smile.

"Yes. Of course." He said taking the USB from him. "Goodnight."

"I should get going as well. I hope Mary isn't too mad at me. I'll be back here tomorrow to help with the case."

"Hmm." He replied while studying his laptop. John sighed and went to follow Mycroft. Mycroft's male assistant had already deposited the suitcase outside of the bathroom door.

It was another five minutes before Sherlock heard the shower turn off and the bathroom door creak open. Rose pulled her suitcase inside and grabbed her pyjamas and toothbrush. After she finished she took her suitcase into the living room to say goodnight to Sherlock. "Sherlock." She said quietly.

"Hmmm." Sherlock replied before glancing up from the screen. After he saw her, he stopped and stared. She was wearing an over-sized t-shirt, which made her look even smaller than she already was, and pyjama shorts with delicate, pink satin slippers. She looked so young and vulnerable and his heart broke all over again. She looked sweet and he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to do any harm to this poor, sweet girl. Only a few short hours he knew this girl and he was having sappy, sentimental thoughts.

_ "Bollocks!_" He thought internally.

"Yes." He said after realising that he had been staring.

"Ummm... I just wanted to say goodnight and I wanted to thank you again. I know that you don't think that it's much and you probably believe that this is truly just the most convenient solution, but it really does mean a lot to me."

"Yes. Umm... of course." He had no idea how to respond. When he saw her going around to the back of his chair, he slowly closed his laptop, knowing that she wouldn't want to see the gruesome video again. Before he knew what was happening, she leaned over and wrapped her slender arms around his shoulders, crossing her hands in front of his chest.

"Goodnight Sherlock." She said before she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and quickly went over and picked up her suitcase and climbed the stairs to her room. Yet again, Sherlock was at a loss. No one besides his mother hugged him without hesitation. Suddenly this slip of a girl not only hugged him and kissed his cheek, but had done the same to Mycroft. This girl who had only met him a few hours ago seemed to trust him fully without any hesitancy. It terrified him, but at the same time fascinated him. He wanted to be able to feel worthy of her trust, to prove that she was right to trust in him. Suddenly he had a huge responsibility and surprisingly enough he almost looked forward to it.

**That's another chunk done. Please review. I'd love to know where and if I'm going wrong anywhere. Enjoy the rest of your fanfictioning. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey. This is a super short chapter, but it was the only way to cut it off. If all goes well, I'll post another chapter today. Thanks for reading. Again, I don't own anything beside Rose.**

"...I am more impatient than Jim was. He loved playing games, but tire of them rather quickly."

There had to be some kind of clue as to were this was taken. It was dark, but there was wind blowing. So it was outside. He could hear traffic, but it sounded distant, so somewhere out of the way of traffic, but still in the city. At about twenty-six seconds into the video there is the sound of a vent turning on. It sounded change. Somehow familiar.

"Damn!" He exclaimed out loud. He was close. He could feel it. It was right there in front of him, but...

He was disrupted from his thoughts by a scream. Sherlock raced up the stairs to what was now Rose's room. Rose was wailing and rolling around, wrapping herself tighter and tighter in the sheets. Sherlock quickly took hold of her shoulders. "Rose. Rose. Wake up. It's only a nightmare. I'm here. Please wake up." Finally Rose stopped thrashing about. Opening her eyes she quickly looked around to find Sherlock. Upon finding him she calmed down and worked to steady her breathing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. "Shh. It's OK." Sherlock said patting her hair. Rose let go and quickly wiped away her tears using the back of her hands.

"Thank you." She whispered."

"It's quite alright. Would you like to come downstairs? I'll make some tea."

"Yes please." Sherlock backed up and allowed her to crawl out of bed. He quickly followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Quickly preparing the kettle he set out a box of biscuits in front of her. They sat staring quietly at each other until the kettle whistled and Sherlock got up to make the tea. Setting the pot down on the table, he turned around and picked up two cups and saucers, one of which, he set in front of her. "So..." Sherlock said tentative. " Rose gave a small smile and blew some air through her nose.

"Sorry. I suppose that we're both not very good at small talk." Sherlock gave a small nod and a half smile as he started pouring the tea. Rose took a biscuit and dipped it in her tea.

"You dip your biscuits into your tea?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Of course. You have to dunk your Digestive cookies in your tea. It's delicious." She looked at him with a grin on her face.

"OK. You just called them cookies, which they are not and you don't dunk the biscuit in the tea. Why would you want a soggy biscuit?"

"It doesn't stay soggy for long and I'm Canadian, so this" she held up another biscuit "is a cookie."

"Oh, you have so much to learn." Sherlock grinned at her and ruffled his curls.

"I hope that I didn't wake you up." Rose said dunking her biscuit in her tea.

"No, no. I was just in my mind palace."

"Your... mind... palace."

"Yes. It helps me organize all of my thoughts so that I can easily access them whenever I need too."

"Oh. Is it like when my grade seven teacher got us to imagine ourselves walking home and we had to remember ten different items and see if we could remember them all at different times?"

"Yes. Something like that, but on a much larger scale. It helps me to solve crimes."

"That makes sense." Sherlock nodded and took a sip from his tea.

"Not many people understand what I mean."

"It's not that difficult to figure out." Sherlock nodded again.

They sat in relative silence while they finished their tea. Afterwards they both stood up from the table in the kitchen and took their cups to the sink. Rose still didn't want to go bed so she followed Sherlock to living room and sat down in the chair opposite Sherlock. Sherlock steepled his fingers together and pressed them to his lips.

"Are you warm enough?" Sherlock asked absentmindedly.

"Yes. Thank you." She replied, relaxing back into the chair.

"Thank you for waking me up."

"You say "thank you" quite a lot." Sherlock had his eyes closed.

"I have a lot to thank you for." Rose replied. Sherlock smirked and cracked one eye open.

"It's quite alright, by the way. It's too be expected, really." Sherlock said closing his eyes again.

Sherlock's eyes popped open again at the sound of a sniffle. Rose sat there quitely wiping away her tears. "Here." Said Sherlock, handing her a box of tissues.

"Thank you." She said, taking a few. She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose into the tissue. "Sorry." She said, attempting a smile. "I don't usually cry this much." She said looking down at her hands while she fiddled with the tissue.

"You've nothing to feel sorry for. It's perfectly understandable that you would feel quite sad at this time." Sherlock replied trying to breeze over the situation.

"It's just that, well, we moved here for Mom's new job. We were going to be so happy. We couldn't wait to move here. And now, now she's gone and we'll never get the chance to be happy together here." She dabbed at her eyes again.

"Of course." Sherlock replied awkwardly. "Well, it's still nothing to feel sorry about. This isn't your fault."

Rose gave him a half smile and sniffled. "Again, Canadian. I say sorry quite a bit." Sherlock blew some air out of his nose as he relaxed back into the chair. They sat there silently for the rest of the night while Rose slowly gave in to her exhaustion and fell asleep in the chair. Noticing this Sherlock laid a blanket on her and sat back down, retreating back to his mind palace.

**Thanks again for reading. Please review so I know what you all think. Thanks a bunch.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So I buggered it up and posted the wrong bit. Here is your new chapter. Sorry. So far, I'm quite happy with the response that I've gotten and want to thank everyone who has read this far. You all rock. Again, I don't own this.**

Rose awoke the next morning with a crick in her neck. She sat up and stretched and rubbed her eyes. "Yoo hoo." Rose heard the familiar greeting and single knock at the door. She looked towards the door to see Mrs. Hudson holding a tray with tea, biscuits, and scones. "Oh hello, Love. I wasn't expecting to find you down here."

"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson. Umm... yeah. I, uh, had a hard time sleeping and sat up with Sherlock for awhile." It was then that she registered that there was a blanket now sitting on her lap that had not been there the night before.

"How are you feeling this morning, Dear." Mrs. Hudson said sympathetically while setting the tray down on the table.

"Uh. I'm, um, well, it's difficult. I suppose it hasn't really sunk in yet."

"Of course. I'm always just downstairs if you need me, Dear. Here. Have some tea." She said while handing her a cup.

"Thank you, but you really didn't have to do this."

"Oh, it's no trouble, dear. I was already going to bring up Sherlock's, what's one more cup and few more biscuits?"

"You bring Sherlock tea everyday?" Rose asked with a confused grin on her face.

"Lord knows that he wouldn't eat breakfast if I didn't." Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes and sat down on the sofa.

"Umm... would you like some tea. I would appreciate the company."

"Thank you. I will. I must say that I am sorry about what happened. That Moriarty's caused all sorts of trouble for Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson said while pouring herself a cup of tea. Rose quietly nodded her head while playing with a biscuit.

"Sherlock must lead a very dangerous life."

"Oh yes. He's always getting into all sorts of trouble. He had to pretend to have committed suicide for two years to save John and Detective Inspector Lestrade and myself."

"Yeah. I think that I caught wind of that while I was still in Canada."

"Where in Canada are you from?"

"Oh. I'm from a small town. It's called La Salle. It's in Manitoba. It's right in the centre of the country."

"Oh, that sounds lovely, dear. Did you have a farm or anything?"

"No. I, uh, Mom helped farmers sell their wares, so their vegetables and animals and stuff. She recently got a job here doing the same sort of thing. She was good at her job." Rose smiled sadly.

"I have a cousin who lives out in Canada. I don't talk to him very often. He lives in, ummm... British... Columbia?" Mrs. Hudson said, trying to remember.

"B.C. That's a lovely province. It's got mountains and rivers. It's beautiful. Manitoba is all praries and ugly forests. And it's really cold."

"How cold does it get over there. I mean, -10c makes me want to move to Spain."

"Ha. I remember walking to school when it was -50c. That kind of cold takes your breath away and freezes you straight through to the bones."

"My word, you mean that you go out in that weather?" Mrs. Hudson looked absolutely horrified and Rose couldn't help but giggle and nod her head. Just then, Sherlock's bedroom door opened as he walked out in a fresh suit with his hair still slightly damp from a shower. "Good morning Sherlock. Rose was just telling me what it was like living in Canada. She said that it could be -50c and she'd have to walk to school." Mrs. Hudson told him still looking horrified that anyone would consider living in a place that polar bears must occupy, never mind sending your children out in that weather. Sherlock smirked and poured himself some tea and sat in his chair.

"Your neck looks like it must be stiff from sleeping in that chair all night." Sherlock said looking over at Rose.

"It is a little." Rose admitted.

"There's a heating pack in the left hand cupboard that you can put in the microwave to put on your neck if you'd like. John often fell asleep in that chair when he lived here." Rose had already gotten up and was in the kitchen when she asked

"John used to live here?"

"Yes. He was my roommate, but now he's married to Mary."

"Is she nice?" Rose asked taking the heating pack out of the cupboard.

"She shot me once... but it was to save my life." He added the last bit after Mrs. Hudson shot him a stern look.

"You'll have to tell me the story someday. Uh, Sherlock? Is it alright if I remove this pancreas from the microwave?"

"Yes. Of course just put it in the fridge, I'll work on it later." Sherlock replied while flipping through the newspaper.

"Sherlock. You've got a nice, young girl living with you now. You can't just leave bits of dead things lying about anymore." Mrs. Hudson admonished him.

"Oh, I don't mind it Mrs. Hudson. Dissections are my favorite part of biology class. Although if I am going to be living here for awhile, Sherlock, I might consider getting you a second fridge to store them." Rose grinned at him while Sherlock smirked down at his paper. The microwave pinged and Rose retrieved the heating pack and sat back down on the chair relaxing while the heating pack went to work on her neck and shoulders.

"My, my Sherlock. You truly have found the perfect roommate now." Mycroft smirked while twirling his umbrella in the doorway.

"Good morning Mr. Holmes. Would you care for some tea and scones? They're quite good."

"Ah. Yes. Mrs. Hudson's homemade scones."

"Oh just hand him over the plate. He'll eat them anyway." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Sherlock!" Rose looked at him sternly. Sherlock looked down at his paper while rolling his eyes, but his cheeks were noticeably pink.

"Just tea for me this morning, thank you." Mycroft smirked at his little brother and smiled genuinely at Rose. Rose went to pour him a cup, but Mycroft grabbed the pot handle before she could. "I can manage quite well. Thank you, my Dear." He smiled at her again. Rose smiled back and relaxed into the chair and heating pad.

"I see that my brother has not provided you a comfortable bed." Mycroft said while sitting on the couch.

"Oh no... I just... I, um, had a bit of a nightmare and woke up and fell asleep here. Sherlock's been more than kind." Rose replied quickly coming to Sherlock's defense.

"More than kind? That's not the Sherlock that I know." John and Mary smirked while striding into 221b. Mary had a baby seat in tow.

"Gosh. If I'm to live here much longer, I'll have to work on my entrances." Rose giggled to herself. "Good morning John. You must be Mary. It's lovely to meet you." Rose quickly stood and held out her hand. Mary set the baby seat down and pulled her into a hug instead. Rose usually would have found the gesture strange, but Mary had such a sweet smile, that it seemed perfectly natural.

"Hello Rose. It's lovely to meet you as well." Rose looked down sadly before noticing the baby seat.

"Oh." Rose looked at the pink bundle squirming in her seat, looking up at her. "Hello. What's your name sweetheart?" Rose asked while getting to her knees, smiling at the baby.

"This is Kensie. She's four months old." Said John proudly. Mary quickly bent down and unbuckled the seat to pick up her daughter.

"Would you like to hold her?" Mary asked while Rose stood back up.

"Um sure. I, uh, don't have much experience." Rose replied nervously.

"Oh, that's alright. She's fairly strong already so you don't have to worry too, too much. She carefully placed Kensie into Rose's arms with Kensie against her shoulder. Kensie pulled back to look at this new person who was holding her.

"Hello Sweetheart. Oh, Gosh. You're just beautiful aren't you. Must take after your Mom." Rose smiled. Sherlock carefully watched Rose interacting with his Goddaughter. He didn't bother pointing out that Kensie wouldn't reply to her questions. Instead he focused on how happy she looked. She hadn't looked truly happy since she had been there. Of course, it had only been a short time since the whole incident, but Sherlock felt a warmth in his chest looking at her smile. Mycroft watched his younger brother, never having seen his brother look so proud, even if he was trying to hide it under his usual stoney expression.

Rose held out a finger that Kensie eagerly grabbed for and Rose put on a happy, funny, excited expression for Kensie. Kensie smiled a wide, toothless smile in return. Rose smiled warmly, though tears filled her eyes. She gently kissed Kensie's cheek and gave her back to her mother. "Sorry about that." Rose said, while wiping the tears from her eyes. "She's just so sweet and... and she's fortunate to have a lovely mother. Sorry." Rose whispered the last word and quickly walked towards the kitchen.

"I should go see her. One moment." Sherlock quickly stood up and followed her to the kitchen.

Sherlock found Rose standing in the kitchen silently sobbing. When Sherlock hesitantly walked closer, Rose quickly closed the distance by throwing her arms around him and burying her head in his shoulder. Sherlock closed his arms around her small body that was now wracked with sobs. He allowed her to cry until she finally felt brave enough to pull away from his shoulder. When she looked up into his face, his heart broke. She stared at him with wide, blue eyes, that were now red with tears and her bottom lip quivering slightly as she tried to calm down.

"She's just so little and innocent. She has parents that love her. I never even had a Dad and now my Mom has been taken from me." Rose said quietly as another tear fell onto her cheek. Sherlock brushed it away with his thumb and held her cheek in his hand.

"I'm so sorry that this happened to you Rose. This is all my fault." Sherlock looked down at her sadly. Rose quickly shook her head.

"No. This is not your fault. The only person to blame is the one who did this to my mother. You had nothing to do with this." Sherlock wiped away another tear that fell down her cheek while he tried to believe her. "Go back to the living room. I'm fine. I'll just clean up quickly and will be out in a moment." Sherlock nodded and released her. Rose quickly walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Sherlock walked back into the living room where all eyes were turned on him. "She'll be alright. She just uh, the baby, just made her think of her mother. Perfectly natural." Sherlock said replacing his stoic expression. He sat back down in his chair. John was in his chair while Mary and Mrs. Hudson sat on the couch, Mrs. Hudson cooing softly at the baby. Mycroft stood with his back to the window leaning on his umbrella.

Rose walked back into the living room and giggled. "Mr. Holmes? Has anyone told you that you dress like John Steed? All you need is the bowler." Rose's grin grew while Sherlock cracked the biggest grin he had ever worn. Mary, John, and Mrs. Hudson all tried and miserably failed to stiffle their giggles. Even little Kensie was laughing happily even though she didn't understand why. Mycroft looked terribly confused while trying to scoff.

"Yes. Quite." He said, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't worry. I always quite liked Mr. Steed. He always knew how to look classy even while fighting off the bad guys." Rose smiled at him softly, trying to apologise for any offence caused. Mycroft cracked a small smile at her.

"How do you know about The Avengers? You're fifteen and a Canadian." Mrs. Hudson asked still smiling.

"My Mom was a big fan of the show. They would show repeats of it when she was a teenager while she was babysitting and would watch it then. She bought the VHS tapes when I was a kid and we would watch them together." Rose smiled at the happy memory.

"Well Rose. I was wondering if you would like to come shopping with me. I need to pick up a few things for Kensie here and Mrs. Hudson has agreed to watch her. Speaking of which, John, you forgot the nappy bag."

"Damn. One moment." John got up and raced downstairs to the car.

"She's four months old and he still forgets the nappy bag. By the time she's out of nappies, he'll forget that she doesn't need the bag anymore and bring it with him." Mary said shaking her head and rolling her eyes playfully. Everyone smiled and chuckled at that. "Anyway Rose. I wouldn't mind having some company and I figured that you might need some things now that you're staying with Sherlock."

"Yeah. That sounds like a good idea. I could use some more pony-tail holders and clothes for running around in if I'm going to help Sherlock on his cases." Suddenly Sherlock's face lit up.

"You want to help with my cases?"

"Yeah of course. It sounds like fun." She grinned.

"I also need some regular pants too." Everyone in the room looked at her with questioning eyes. "What? Did I say something strange?" Rose asked wearily.

"Well, it's just that we didn't expect you to be so, umm, forward." Mrs. Hudson replied, blushing.

"Forward? All I said is that I need some new pa... Oh. Ha ha. Sorry, my Canadian is showing. I meant trousers." Rose laughed. Everyone in the room chuckled at the mix-up. "Anyway, I got rid of quite a few clothes when I first moved here and it would be nice to have a few new outfits. After we get home I want to price out refrigerators. I'd like to get a new one for food. Sherlock can use the old one for experiments."

"Why didn't I think of that?" John exclaimed as he set down the nappy bag beside his chair after returning to the flat.

"Because Rose uses common sense and figures out how to solve problems quickly and efficiently." Sherlock smirked. Rose blushed and smiled down at the ground while John pouted slightly.

"Well it has been lovely meeting with you all, but I really must get back to the office." Mycroft said walking towards Rose. "Do take care of yourself Rose. Please call if you should ever need me."

"Thank you Mr. Holmes." Rose gently smiled up at him and rose on her toes to place another kiss on his cheek. Mycroft quickly left before anyone, especially Sherlock, caught sight of the blush that coloured to his cheeks.

"Well, Kensie dear, it sounds to me like you might be hungry." Mrs. Hudson smiled to the little girl as she started to fuss. "Let's get you downstairs and fed." Mrs. Hudson stood up and picked up the nappy bag and walked towards the door. "Bye all, have a good day, everyone." With that, she walked down the stairs.

Mary turned towards Rose. "Rose, it has been weeks since I've done anything without carrying a baby seat with me everywhere I go and had any conversations with someone new." Rose grinned.

"I'll just go upstairs and wash up quickly and get dressed and we'll be off." Rose quickly bounced towards the stairs.

"So, have you gotten anywhere with the case?" John asked Sherlock.

"I'm still trying to figure out where the video was taken. It's obviously outside, and it's away from traffic but still close enough to hear cars in the distance. There's also an air vent that goes on during the video. The area sounds similar, but I can't place it." All three of them sat around looking thoughtfully until Rose came down wearing a 'Doctor Who' t-shirt.

"Oh, you and John are going to get along just fine." Mary laughed while John happily admired her shirt. Sherlock stared off into the distance. "Well, we'll be off then. I'll have her back in a few hours Sherlock. I've got my mobile if you need."

"Oh. Do you have my cell number, Sherlock?"

"Hmmm? Oh, yes. Mycroft sent it to me." Sherlock said not fully leaving his trance.

"How did Mycroft get my num..." She suddenly remebered his obvious influence shown the day before. "Never mind. Stupid question." She quickly said and she and Mary left.

Rose and Mary had nice day, considering the circumstances that had placed them in the situation. Mary picked out a few things for Kensie and got a new dress for herself. When she tried it on, Rose's jaw dropped. "Damn, Mary. You have a four month old baby at home. Stop making the rest of us women look bad with your gorgeous body, would ya?" Rose teased. Mary grinned.

"John and I have a date night planned for next week. It's our first since Kensie's been born. I wanted to make it special."

"Well, let's just hope that you don't get pregnant again so soon so you can enjoy more date nights." Rose giggled. Mary laughed as she headed back into the change-room. Afterwards, Rose started looking for a couple of outfits.

"I should probably pick up some more yoga pants if I'm going to be working cases with Sherlock and I would like to get one or two dresses. When I lived in La Salle, there weren't many occasions to wear a dress and you couldn't even use the excuse that you were trying to flirt, since there were no guys to speak of that were my age." Rose quickly gathered the yoga pants she wanted and took a bit of time getting a few dresses to try and took them to the fitting rooms.

Sherlock spent most of the day in his mind palace trying to piece together different clues, occasionally yelling out random bits about the case or exclamations of frustration. John sat in his chair either reading the newspaper, writing down what they knew about the case, or texting Lestrade about any new details. It seemed that for Lestrade and his team, every place they checked was a dead end. Finally after a few hours, Sherlock got John to retrieve his mobile from his suit jacket pocket (that was hanging over the back of the sofa that Sherlock was lying on) and called Rose.

Rose was just outside of her changing room showing one of the dresses to Mary, when she heard her Doctor Who theme ringtone. "Hello? Oh. Hi Sher... oh, um well, my Mother traveled around the city quite a bit for work but I had seen her go to bed. Well, if you don't mind my saying so, for whatever reason this isn't about me or my Mother. It seems to be about you. Do you know anything about the person who did it? Moran?... Wait. Did you say ex-lover? Well I don't think that Moriarty would've been very dedicated to the relationship, but Moran could have been. On the... video he seemed to want revenge. What?! What did I say? What did you figure out? Sherlock? Damn!"

Sherlock's eyes flew open at the mention of the word revenge. Moran seemed more sentimental than Moriarty and although he didn't like games, he would probably find it very poetic to have his revenge in the same place where Moriarty killed himself. "Clever girl." Sherlock exclaimed while jumping up from the sofa. "Oh, I knew she was smart. Come, John we have a crime scene to visit."

**As always, please review. They always make me so happy. It really means a lot to me. The next chapter should be posted soon.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here is a new chapter. I wanted to thank Wolfshalom for giving me some great advice and editing whatnot and to everyone else who has been super supportive, thank you. Just a bit of a warning, this chapter describes her identifying her mother's body and describes the state of her body. Sorry, but I felt it was necessary because I'm a member of E.V.I.L. (Every Villain Is Lemons.) Again, I own nothing.**

"So Sherlock didn't tell you what he figured out?" Mary asked while they were standing in line to pay.

"No, but he sounded very excited." Rose looked at the ground.

"Oh. I'll murder him." Mary ground out.

"Careful, you might actually follow through on that threat." Rose said, smirking at the ground. Mary snorted and quickly tried to recover herself, not only was it not a very graceful sound, but she probably shouldn't laugh at the subject matter.

"Sherlock told you, then?" Rose nodded as she put her items on the counter pulling out her purse.

"Sorry. Are you Rose Mansfield?" The clerk asked.

"Umm. Yes?" Rose raised an eyebrow.

"I've been told to inform you that your purchases have all been taken care of."

"What? That... but."

"Could you just bag them up for us, thank you very much." Mary smiled at the cashier. "Mycroft." She murmured to Rose. "Rose's eyes widened as she realised what happened.

"Oh. Um, yes. Thank you." Rose quickly grabbed her bag of clothes and followed Mary outside.

Sherlock and John rode the lift silently to the top floor of St. Bart's. John was slightly nervous, but knew that he wouldn't get an answer out of Sherlock. After they stepped outside of the elevator, John hurried to keep up with Sherlock's long strides. They quickly reached a door at the end of that hallway that was locked, but Sherlock produced a key. John wasn't sure if he should bother being surprised and half-heartdely wondered from where he had nicked it. They climbed a short flight of stairs and opened an unlocked door that lead to the rooftop. Eyes quickly adjusting to the changing light, Sherlock flipped up his coat collar and walked farther on to the roof. Near the centre of the roof was a folding chair that was folded up and laying down, flat. There were some cut ropes that had traces of blood on them and the knife that also had a bit of blood on it.. Obviously, Moran wasn't worried about leaving evidence. He knew that they knew it was him. It was just a matter of finding him, or drawing him out to them. Sherlock quickly scanned the area around him and saw a trail of dripped blood that lead to the air vent that he must have remembered from his rooftop encounter with Moriarty and had heard on the video. Laying against the air vent was a body that looked as if it had roughly been dropped there. Running over to it, Sherlock slipped on a pair of plastic gloves that he carried in his coat pocket. kneeling beside the body he steadied his breathing as he gently turned the body towards him.

Sherlock let out cry and jumped back when he saw the body. Eyes wide and mouth hanging opened all thoughts of steadying his breathing left him and he felt light-headed. John ran up to his friend. "Sherlock what's the ma..." John looked over at the body and let the words die out before they were uttered. John could clearly see what had startled his friend so badly. The woman on the rooftop looked startlingly like Rose. Slightly older. A few more wrinkles around the eyes, but definitely her mother. Sherlock couldn't tear his gaze away from the body although he wanted nothing more than to do that very thing. It was just then that Lestrade and the rest of his crew came barreling onto the rooftop, as John had called them during the taxi-ride there.

Lestrade ran over to John and Sherlock. He had never seen Sherlock look so shocked or so pained. His eyes drifted to the body. "Jesus Christ." He said as he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned his back to the body. Slowly turning around, he lowered his hand and forced himself to look at the body again. "So, that's her then." The body was quickly surrounded by police officers and forensic scientist, busy taking samples and snapping pictures.

Sherlock couldn't think straight. Her mother looked so similar to her that it was impossible not to imagine it being Rose lying there instead. Sherlock leaned against a pole and tried to recover his breath. His chest hurt more than he could ever remember. More than when he was in withdrawal from drugs; more than when Mary shot him; even more than when he had been saying goodbye to John over the phone before he jumped, or in person before he boarded the plane to eastern Europe. Sherlock rubbed his hands over his face while John stood silently beside him. "It's ok, Sherlock. It isn't Rose. She's with Mary." John finally said after ten minutes of standing there.

"We're doing this for Rose, so that we can get rid of this psycho and Rose can carry on with her life."

"Oh God, John. Don't you see? It's not just that she looks like Rose, but this is Rose's mother. Rose has spent hours crying over her and had an awful nightmare about her last night. Now I finally see who has this incredible hold on Rose's life and not just on a screen. I can't detach myself from this case, properly, John. What if I can't help Rose?"

"Of course you're going to help Rose. Just because there is... sentiment involved in this case," Sherlock visibly flinched. "doesn't mean that you can't help her. It just means that you're going to work even harder to fix this. This case matters now." Sherlock nodded resolutely and took in a deep breath. He put on his stoic, detective face and went to examine the body, with John hurrying after him.

Rose and Mary were grabbing a bite to eat before heading back to Baker street when Rose excused herself to the bathroom. After she left, Mary quickly pulled out her mobile and called John. "John. What did Sherlock figure out about the case? He called Rose, but hung up before he told her." John hunched his shoulders and pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly before speaking.

"Mary. Um. We found the body, but we need Rose to identify it. The body was on St. Bart's roof and now it's in the morgue. Could you bring Rose?"

"Fuck." Mary sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Yeah. I guess I'll have to tell her so she's prepared. Oh, John. She was just starting to smile."

"I know. I've never seen Sherlock this beaten up." Mary looked up and could see Rose walking back to the table.

"Alright. I'll see you in a bit." Mary hung up the phone and tried to smile at Rose, though it came out looking like a grimace.

"Is something wrong?" Rose asked, looking concerned.

"Well. Ummm. They found a... body. They think that it might be your mother. They need you to identify her at St. Bart's hospital. John just told me." Mary said all of this to the table before looking up. Rose's eyes were brimming with tears and she bit her lip. "I'm so sorry Rose, but I need to take you there now." Rose's breathing was erratic and she gripped the table tightly. Mary reached over and gently laid her hand over hers. Rose closed her eyes and nodded her head in a couple of violent shakes. Mary saw the waiter and walked quickly over to him to ask for the check.

"Oh. I was told to inform you that the bill is covered, Madam. Is there anything else you want?"

"Oh, uh no thank you, but something came up and we must be on our way."

"Yes, of course. Have a nice..." Mary didn't bother to hear the rest of the sentence before hurrying back to table and helped Rose stand up. She draped her arm around her shoulders and held her close as they walked out of the restaurant.

When they were finally in the safety of the car, Rose broke down sobbing. She shook violently as tears streamed continuously down her red face. "Oh God. I can't. I can't go in there. I can't do this." Mary pulled Rose close to her and rubbed her back. She let Rose cry, and cry until she ran out of tears. When she finally quieted down, Mary pulled back to look down at her face.

"Rose. You have to do this and I know that you can. I know that this is difficult, but you need to do this for your mother. John and I will be there and so will Sherlock. You just need to go in there, look at the body and say whether or not it's your mother. That's all. Then you can leave and Sherlock and John can work on the case and catch Moran." Mary knew that what she was saying sounded harsh, but she knew that Rose needed to hear this. Rose was a strong person and she just needed to be reminded that people were counting on her to do this. Rose nodded her head and pulled out of Mary's arms.

The ride to St. Bart's was silent as Mary drove and Rose rested her head on the window. It was raining of course, but it seemed rather fitting today. It was the sort of day her mother would call a "movie day" and brew a pot of tea and snuggle on the sofa with her and watch their favorite movies and recite all of the lines. Rose had been so close to her mother. Her mind drifted back to watching episodes of The Avengers or Gilda or The Women. Her mind drifted back to those happy memories and her heart weighed heavy in her chest. They soon were slowing down and entering the car park. "I have to do this. I can't leave this. Oh God." Rose thought, panicking to herself. Taking deep breathes to try to calm herself, she got out of the car and held Mary's hand as they walked towards the hospital.

Rose held Mary's hand in a death grip as they waited for the lift and once it came, Rose had to force herself to move her feet towards it. With each passing floor, Rose could feel the pit in her stomach growing. She took deep breaths and counted the floors in her head. Mary looked forward or down at the floor, willing herself not to cry. Finally, the lift stopped with a "ping" and the doors opened.

Sherlock was waiting outside of the lift doors and forced himself to be still. He and John both watched the lights showing which floor the lift was on. When it reached the bottom light the doors slid open and Rose let a silent tear fall to the ground. When she saw Sherlock, she let go of Mary's hand and ran to Sherlock and embraced him in a tight hold that threatened that she would never let go. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her, closed his eyes, and rested his head on the top of hers and breathed deeply. After a few seconds, Sherlock loosened his grip and gently pulled back. Rose clenched her eyes shut while she sought out his hand. They walked towards the morgue doors with Mary and John trailing behind them.

"Just wait here. We'll be out in a moment." Sherlock paused to look over his shoulder at his friends before walking through the swinging doors, still clinging on to Rose's hand.

They quietly walked towards the stainless steel table that had a body lying under a sheet on it. Rose took notice of the pathologist with the brown hair that was anxiously biting her small bottom lip and glancing towards Sherlock. Rose closed her eyes again and leaned against Sherlock, willing herself to move forward. Each step feeling like she was trekking through deeper, and deeper mud. After what seemed to be an eternity, they reached the table and Sherlock looked towards the pathologist. "Are you ready, Rose?" He asked, looking down at her. She kept her eyes closed and nodded, not sure if she would be able to speak. Sherlock nodded towards the pathologist and she reached up and gently pulled back the sheet. Rose hesitantly opened her eyes and bit her lip. She stopped breathing and her heart was pounding in her ears.

"I'm sorry, but I need to know if you can identify this woman." The pathologist said quietly.

"Yes." Rose choked back a sob, the word barely a whisper.

"I need you to state her full name. Sorry." Rose closed her eyes, no longer able to stare at her mother. Her mother that was once so bright and warm, now lay pale and cold on a table. It wasn't supposed to be this way. The bastard slit her throat. Rose's mother always had a lovely neck, as strange as that may seem. It was slender and graceful; with a small, brown freckle near the throat column. She had always looked lovely in a necklace.

"Emily Collette Mansfield." Rose whispered.

"Thank you, Molly." Sherlock nodded at the pathologist again and she quickly replaced the sheet. Rose buried her face in Sherlock's side and let hot tears burn her eyes and cheeks before they fell onto Sherlock's black dress shirt. Rose and Sherlock both looked towards Molly when they heard a small sniffle. Molly quickly wiped her tears away with the back of her hand as she continued putting away the body.

"Thank you." Rose barely whispered before Sherlock turned them around, back towards the morgue doors.

They met a very solemn John and Mary and they silently walked back towards the lift. The drive back to 221 Baker street was silent as Mary and John sat up front and Sherlock held Rose close to his chest while she cried. The only sound was the occasional sob from Rose.

"Oh hello everyo..." Mrs. Hudson trailed off when they entered the front hallway. Sherlock brought Rose upstairs, still holding her close to him, leaving John and Mary to pick up Kensie and explain the situation.

Once inside the flat, Sherlock lead Rose to the sofa and sat her down covering her with a blanket. He quickly went to start the kettle and light a fire. Rose sat silently staring into space. Sherlock came back into the living room and set two mugs of tea on the coffee table and sat down beside rose on the sofa and looked into the fire. Rose silently opened the blanket for him and he scooted closer to her. She instinctively curled in to his side and sat there, gazing into the fire with him, willing the fire to ward off the shivers she felt deep in her bones.

**Thank you for sticking around. Please review. It helps me immensely. Enjoy the rest of your day or night. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Yet another chapter. I do hope that anyone who is reading this is enjoying it. Feel free to find me on tumblr going by the same name or drop me a line here. You've been really great so far. Thanks. As always, I don't own anything besides Rose.**

"She's gone." Rose finally whispered after twenty minutes of silence. She hugged her tea close to her. Sherlock didn't say anything. He didn't nod or look at her. There was nothing her could say. Instead, he pulled her closer to him and took a deep breath. "I don't know what I'm going to do. That Ms. Roberts is going to find out soon." Sherlock remained silent. He wasn't sure that this would be the right time for him to tell her his plan. "I should go to bed. I'm kind of tired." Rose said, taking the last sip of her tea. Sherlock merely nodded and loosened his grip on her. She got off of the sofa and kissed the top of his head before heading to her room.

Sherlock had stayed exactly where Rose had left him. He was wandering around his mind palace trying to understand Rose. This small, young girl seemed to take up the biggest space in his mind palace. He didn't understand why he immediately felt the need to protect her and he had never reacted like that to seeing a body. It didn't make sense. "Sherlock. You're slipping. Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side." Mind-palace-Mycroft smirked at him.

"Oh shut-up, Mycroft. If anything you're worse than me." Mind palace Mycroft scowled. Sherlock smirked and turned, about to go find Rose's room in his mind palace, when a scream pulled him back to reality.

Sherlock lept from the sofa and up the stairs where he heard crying. Rose was again, tangled in her sheets and sobbing in her sleep. "No! Don't take me away, please! I can't leave." Sherlock grabbed her shoulders and gently shook her awake.

"Rose. You were having another nightmare."

"Sherlock. She was taking me away. She was pulling me away." She sobbed.

"Who was taking you away?"

"Ms. Roberts. I told her that I didn't want to go and she started pulling me away from you." Sherlock stared at her, not knowing what to say. "Will you stay here until I fall asleep?" Rose whispered; pleading with her watery eyes that shone in the moonlight. Sherlock nodded and pulled the chair from the desk over to the bedside. Rose searched for his hand and he held out his hand, lightly, as if she would refuse it. Nobody had accepted him so fast, except for John and Mary. But even they did not trust him to comfort them. Rose gripped his hand. "Thank you." She mumbled sleepily. Sherlock sat there holding her hand even after she fell asleep. He watched the gentle rising and falling of her chest. It calmed him, reminding him that Rose was still alive and not the one lying in the morgue that night.

At that thought, he felt tears well in his eyes. Rose was the sweetest, most innocent, pure person he had ever met and now Moran had shown her the very worst of this world. Because of Moran, Rose was now left in the hands of a self proclaimed sociopath, who solved murders and conducted strange experiments; who was rude and forgetful. He couldn't understand emotions and shut down when he felt them. He had taken away the person who helped Rose become the sweet person that he knew and he was terrified that he would ruin her. He would take away the last of that sweetness and he knew that he couldn't live with himself if he did that. Sherlock wept silently. Everything he feared bubbled to the surface and he didn't know if he could keep it together, but as he looked at the gentle, peaceful face of Rose in front of him, he knew that he would have to try his hardest for her. If she couldn't help him become a better person, than he could at least try to not make her an awful, heartless person like him.

When the sky turned grey with the oncoming promise of morning, he lowered his head and gently kissed her cheek and slipped out of her room.

At seven o'clock, Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs, carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. She was rather surprised to see Sherlock sitting on the sofa. He wasn't usually up this early. "Good morning, Sherlock." She smiled at him as she set the tray on the coffee table.

"Hmm." Sherlock replied, staring into space. Mrs. Hudson poured two cups of tea and sat in John's chair.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She asked, smiling, trying to encourage him to speak to her. She had never seen Sherlock act this way with someone and she knew that he must be scared. Just when she was about to give up on him talking, he startled her with his baritone voice.

"I'm not good for her." He refused to meet her eyes.

"Oh no, Sherlock. You're what she needs right now."

"But I can't always be what she needs."

"Nobody can always be what somebody needs all of the time. Parents can't always be what their children need." She watched him tense at her words.

"I'm not her father." He replied tersely.

"And I'm not your mother." She stared at him. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. Even though what Mrs. Hudson said was true, she was not his mother, that didn't mean that he wasn't like a son to her and as such she had a mother's intuition about Sherlock and knew that right now he need silence to think, so she sipped her tea quietly and looked out the window. After about twenty minutes, Rose made her way down the stairs. "Good morning, Darling." Mrs. Hudson gave her a small, but warm smile. Rose tried to return the smile. "Come have some tea, Love."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." Rose said quietly and made her way over to where they were sitting. Sherlock had picked up the newspaper and studied it when he had heard her coming down the stairs. Rose bent down and kissed Mrs. Hudson on the cheek. The older woman smiled at her warmly. Rose then walked over to Sherlock and procceded to do the same. Much to Mrs. Hudson's surprise, and pleasure, Sherlock stuck his cheek out so Rose could better access his cheek. Mrs. Hudson smiled into her tea as Rose sat down on the sofa and poured herself some tea.

They sat in silence, save for the turning of the newspaper pages. It almost seemed peaceful. Of course, it was just shy of peaceful as everyone tried to avoid what had happened the previous night. After about an hour there was a knock the door downstairs that drifted up the stairs and through the open door of 221b. "I'll get that." Mrs. Hudson said, quietly getting up from the chair and setting her cup of tea down. She came up a moment later with Ms. Roberts in tow. Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw Rose gulp and turn quite pale.

"Ah. Good. You've seen the paper." Ms. Roberts said as way of a greeting.

"Yes. Manchester United finally won a match." Sherlock didn't bother to look up from the paper.

"That wasn't the story I was talking about." Ms. Roberts replied tersely.

"Really? I wonder what could have possibly happened to have you come down here." Sherlock said sarcastically.

"I was referring to the fact that Miss Mansfield's mother has been found. I'm here to hold up my end of the deal and take Miss Mansfield to a foster home." She looked down her nose at him.

"She is in the room. I would appreciate you not acting as if that weren't the case." Sherlock finally looked up from the paper to glare at her.

"Yes. Of course," Ms. Roberts raised an eyebrow

"Besides, there was really no point in going to the trouble to find Rose a foster home." Sherlock said, looking at the newspaper again. "Seeing as I plan on adopting her." All eyes turned to stare incredulously at Sherlock. He kept his eyes on the newspaper, reeling in the smirk that was threatening to surface.

"Ha! You plan on adopting her?" Ms. Roberts laughed sarcastically.

"I do hate repeating myself, but yes. That is my plan." Rose stared at him, mouth agape, trying to determine if he was serious. Ms. Roberts amused expression turned to a glare.

"Do you have any idea what that entails, Mr. Holmes? You can barely take care of yourself." She gestured to the surrounding flat. "You solve dangerous crimes for a living. Do you really believe that I'll leave her in your care, so if she wouldn't mind getting her things packed, I'll take her as soon as she's ready."

"Now hold on one minute! I've half a mind to tell you exactly what I think." Mrs. Hudson said sternly from behind Ms. Roberts. All eyes moved towards her, shocked that she was getting mad, but she wasn't about to back down. "Rose here has just had to identify her mother's body." She said, glaring daggers at Ms. Roberts while putting a comforting hand on Rose's shoulder. "You can't just come into my home, making demands. Especially when they affect the well being of the young girl who has been in our care for the past two days." Sherlock looked on proudly at Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson may not be his mother, but when push comes to shove, she could easily become a mama bear out to protect her family.

"As much as I'd love to let Rose stay in the care of a "consulting detective"" She said with a snear "I really can't go against regulation and the adoption process can take months if that truly is what you would like" She said smirking at Sherlock.

"But I want to stay here. Doesn't that count for anything?" Rose stood up from the sofa, desperately fighting the tears welling up in her eyes. "Please don't take me away from here. Not now. Please." Rose almost whispered the last plea.

"I am truly sorry, but it's been decided. There's a foster home waiting for you. Now if you'll go pack..."

"Sit down, Rose." Sherlock commanded, glaring at Ms. Roberts. "Nobody, but Ms. Roberts is leaving. Mrs. Hudson. Would you be so kind as to get Mycroft on the phone and ask him to come over immediately." Mrs. Hudson nodded and hurried back up stairs. Ms. Roberts rolled her eyes and sat in John's chair, crossing her legs.

"It really is in Miss Mansfield's best interest if I take her somewhere that they can properly take care of her." She said looking at the bullet holes in the wall. Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed. Mrs. Hudson hurried back up the stairs.

"He'll be here in five minutes." She said and went to sit down beside Rose, taking her hand in her own.

"Mycroft must be found of you if he'll make the trip in five minutes. He usually tries to make me wait at least ten." Rose blushed and gave a half smile to the floor. Sherlock smirked back at her before returning his glare to Ms. Roberts.

As promised, exactly five minutes later the front door could be heard opening and closing and two sets of feet climbing the stairs. "Ah. Mycroft. How lovely to see you this morning." Sherlock greeted him with his usual disdain. Mycroft resisted the urge to roll his eyes and smiled tightly at him.

"Good morning, Brother Dear. Rose. It's pleasure to see you. I am terribly sorry about your mother." Mycroft looked genuinely sad, a fact that didn't pass by Sherlock. "Mrs. Hudson." He nodded towards her. He quickly lost any sense of a smile he had as he turned to look at Ms. Roberts. "Ms. Roberts. If you could join my assistant," He gestured towards Anthea, standing behind him "and me downstairs. We need to speak privately." Ms. Roberts noticably gulpped and lost the smirk on her face. She silently got up and followed Mycroft and Anthea downstairs.

"Sherlock. Are you sure about this? I mean, it's unbelievably kind of you, but I could never ask you to do this for me." Rose asked nervously. Sherlock stared at the paper.

"Of course I'm sure. You need protection and I don't trust you being safe if you were to go to a foster home."

"But this case won't last forever. I'm still only fifteen, you'll be stuck with me for the next few years." Rose twisted her hands nervously and tried to blink away her tears. Mrs. Hudson sat on the sofa beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"It's alright, Love. We'll take care of you. You don't have to worry about anything." Mrs. Hudson comforted her. Sherlock remained silent.

"Well that's taken care of, right Ms. Roberts?" Mycroft said upon re-entering the flat.

"Well, I have to go back to my office and fetch the papers as this was rather unexpected." She replied glaring at the wall.

"No need. I had Anthea print them up two days ago when this fiasco first began." Mycroft smirked as he held out his hand for the papers in question. Anthea quickly handed him the paper and glanced between Sherlock, Rose, and Mycroft in amusement. Rose looked rather shocked that Mycroft had expected this outcome.

"Yes, well Mr. Holmes, Miss Mansfield. If you'll follow me, I need you to sign a few things." Ms. Roberts ripped the paper out of Mycroft's hand. Sherlock and Rose followed Ms. Roberts in to the kitchen. Sherlock looked quite amused and almost excited while he moved some of his scientific equipment off of the table. Rose twisted her hands nervously.

"Would you like some tea, Mycroft and, what was your name, Love? Anthea?" Mrs. Hudson smiled at the pair. This was one of the few times that she wasn't annoyed by Mycroft Holmes and was rather thankful for his "minor" position in the government.

"Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. That would be rather welcome." Mycroft replied, sitting in John's chair. Anthea merely shook her head and said that she was needed back in the office.

"Did you need me to send a car for you, Sir?"

"No, thank you. I don't expect this will take much longer, but I'll call for one when it's needed." Anthea nodded and quickly left the flat.

"Thank you so much for this, Mycroft. You've no idea what this means to Sherlock. I've never seen him care for anyone this way before." Mrs. Hudson smiled, handing Mycroft a cup of tea.

"Yes. Quite." Mycroft replied, nodding in thanks for the tea.

"Now, Miss Mansfield. I need to ask if you will be taking on Mr. Holmes' name?" Ms. Roberts looked down at Rose.

"Oh, I'm sure she..."

"Yes, please. I'll be Rose Mansfield Holmes. I mean, if that's alright with you, Sherlock." Sherlock blinked rapidly at Rose. He had never been so shocked in his life. He searched for words to reply.

"Um. Yes. Of course. If that's what you wish." He replied, carefully.

"Thank you. I don't have much to thank you with, but it would mean a lot to me if I could take on your family name. "

"Right, so, Rose Elisabeth Mansfield Holmes. Quite the mouthful." Ms. Roberts smirked, writing the name down on the paper.

"Surprisingly English." Sherlock noted. Rose giggled quietly.

"Mr. Holmes, sign here." She ordered, gesturing to the line, on which he was to sign. "Right, well, Miss Mansfield, I need to speak with Mr. Holmes for a moment. We'll be out shortly." Rose looked up at Sherlock, who gave her a quick nod of encouragement and she stood up and went to the living room.

"Where's Mrs. Hudson gone?" Rose asked upon entering the room and walking to Sherlock's chair.

"She's gone back down to her flat. She wanted to give you and Sherlock a bit of privacy."

"Ah. Ok." She nodded, fiddling with her hands. "Mr. Holmes, I really must thank you. It seems that I will never be able to thank you enough." She gave him a small, nervous smile.

"It's quite alright, Dear and considering that you are now a member of the family, you needn't bother calling me "Mr. Holmes."" Mycroft returned the smile.

"Alright. What would you rather I call you?" "Well, you're welcome to call me Mycroft, or..." he hesitated, staring into his lap "seeing as I've never had a niece and likely never will have another chance to, I, uh, wouldn't be opposed if you wished to call me "Uncle."" He replied, refusing to look up. Rose smiled brightly.

"I'd love that. Thank you, Uncle Mycroft." Mycroft finally looked up and looked quite relieved before smiling at her. "I've never had an Uncle. It seems that if I had to choose one, I couldn't find a better one." Mycroft blushed at the compliment.

Sherlock and Ms. Roberts re-entered the living room and both Mycroft and Rose stood up. "Well congratulations, Mr. Holmes. You're a father." Ms. Roberts' smirk grew as Sherlock paled slightly. "Congratulations to you as well, Miss Holmes. You can still call me if you should ever need anything." Ms. Roberts looked Sherlock up and down.

"I don't believe that, that will be necessary. Thank you." Rose replied, not bothering to smile at her.

"Well, I'll just show myself out." Ms. Roberts said awkwardly glancing around the room.

"Yes." Sherlock replied tersely. Mycroft didn't bother to try and correct him. With that, Ms. Roberts finally left and everyone let out a small sigh of relief.

"So, it's Miss Holmes now?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes. I took on your name. I hope you don't mind." Rose smiled gently at him.

"Oh. Not at all." Mycroft smiled at her. "Well, I must be getting back to the office." Mycroft said, seeming rather disappointed.

"Yes. Can't have any wars starting without you." Rose rolled her eyes.

"He means thank you. So do I. Thank you very much Uncle. That was unbelievably kind." She stood on her toes, gave him a hug, and kissed his cheek."

"Goodbye, Rose Dear. Perhaps I shall see you later." Mycroft said before turning to walk out the door.

"Yes. Good... Did she just call you "Uncle?"" Sherlock asked incredulously. Mycroft paused in the doorway, smirked, and continued down the stairs without looking back.

"Did you call him "Uncle?"" Sherlock now turned to Rose, still shocked and somewhat appalled at the idea.

"Yes. We both agreed that since I technically am his first and only niece, well, we'd give the whole "Uncle thing" a try." Sherlock nodded, still rather confused and went to sit down in his chair. His phone rang, informing him of a text message.

"Molly just texted me." He said, looking down at his phone.

"Is she the pathologist from the morgue?" Rose asked.

"Yes. She said that they've finished examining your mother's body and that you can start making preperations for the funeral."

"Oh." Rose wispered, refusing to look up. "I forgot about that." She quickly wiped away the few tears that had fallen and went upstairs to get dressed, suddenly remembering that she was still in her jammies.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello. Sorry that I haven't posted in a bit, but I was on holidays. But I'm back now and raring to go. I hope that you like this chapter. This is one of the chapters that I'm really nervous about posting, because I'm not sure if I can write Irene Adler very well. Let me know what you think. Thanks again for reading and as always, I don't own anything except Rose.**

Two sets of feet were heard clomping up the staircase and Sherlock immediately recognized it as John and Lestrade. "Hey." John said while entering the flat. "You asked us to come over?"

"Yes. Sit down." John took his regular spot while Lestrade sat on the sofa.

"So... are you going to tell us why you need us?" John asked after a few minutes of awkward silence. At that moment, Rose came back down the stairs, changed with her hair in a messy bun and a bit of light make-up on to disguise that she had been crying.

"Oh. Hello John. Hello Inspector Lestrade." Rose gave each of them a tight-lipped smile.

"Hello Rose." John said. Lestrade merely nodded.

"John. I'll need you to accompany Rose back to her old flat. She needs to collect the rest of her things, now that she'll be living here." Rose took a quick intake of breath.

"Wait. What do you mean that Rose will be living here?" Lestrade asked.

"I adopted her this morning." Sherlock said non-chalantly, not bothering to turn to look at Lestrade.

"You what!?" Lestrade's eyes were wide, and he looked horribly confused. "Did you know about this?" He said turning to John. John looked slightly uncomfortable before answering.

"I knew that it might happen, but it wasn't for sure and I didn't know that it would be so soon."

"It's ok. It was rather sudden." Rose said, eyes to the ground.

"Right, well... God. Never thought I'd see this in a million years." Said Lestrade.

"If we could get back to task at hand, John, you'll take Rose back to her old flat to get the rest of her things. Everything else will be boxed up and sent to storage by Mycroft's men, until you decide what to do with it." He informed them, looking towards Rose. She nodded silently. "Lestrade, I have someone that I need to question and since John will be occupied, that leaves you."

"Ah. Right then. Who are we questioning?"

"I'll tell you on the way there." His eyes darted quickly to John who rolled his eyes.

"So, um, I'll take Rose over to her old flat then." John said, changing the subject.

"Yes." Sherlock said as he got out of his chair and went to put on his coat. Lestrade got up slowly.

"Miss Mansfield." He said to Rose.

"It's Miss Holmes now, Lestrade." Sherlock interjected and Greg could swear he saw Sherlock hid a proud smirk as he said it. "But I believe that she prefers to be called Rose." Sherlock continued speaking for her. Rose gave a small smile and nodded at him. Lestrade hesitated for a moment, quiet surprised that she had taken on the Holmes name. He and John shared a shocked look.

"Right, well I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your mother." He shook her hand gently. "And you can call me Greg, or Lestrade. Sherlock can never remember my name anyway."

"Thank you, Greg." She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. Without thinking he pulled her into a quick hug where he allowed her to dry her eyes on his button-up shirt.

"Right, well, we'll be off, I suppose." He said breaking the hug gently.

"Yes of course." She smiled at him this time.

"We're going to find this psycho and you won't have to worry about him anymore."

"I have complete and utter faith that you will. Oh, Sherlock." She quickly turned and walked over to him. "Please be careful." She said and raised herself onto her toes and wrapped her arms around him and pecked him on the cheek.

"Well, we're just questioning someone. I'm sure that it will be fine." Sherlock tried to keep the shock out of his voice. He was getting too emotionally involved in the case. He had to maintain distance or else who knows what could happen.

"I know. I just wanted to remind you to be careful." Sherlock nodded his head and turned around, fleeing down the stairs. Lestrade quickly followed after him.

"Are you ready to go?" John asked her.

"Yes. I suppose so." She reached out and grabbed his hand and squeezed it before dropping it and grabbed her peacoat.

The ride to her old flat was fairly quiet. Once she told him the address, John said that he knew the way and she looked out the window at the surprisingly (for her) cold summer day. "Um... so you lived with Sherlock. Is there anything that I should know about him?" She asked, breaking the silence. John grinned and chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, well Sherlock is, well, he can be difficult. He is the laziest person I know. When I first met him he texted me to come to Baker Street, saying that it might be dangerous and when I got there, he wanted me to send a text. I was on the other side of London." Rose snorted and smiled. "He can be quite moody and he gets bored very easily. Whenever he doesn't have a case he has to have experiments going on or else he'll start shooting up the walls."

"Oh. I was wondering why there where bullet holes in the smiley face."

"Yeah. He also doesn't eat or sleep on cases and he takes horrible care of himself. Be careful when you open the fridge. One time I opened it and there was a severed head in there." Rose nodded thoughtfully. "He also doesn't really like people and thinks that sentiment is a weakness or something. He always expects to get his own way and he is the biggest drama queen I know. Oh, and be careful about who you bring to the flat because if he doesn't like them, he'll deduce them and sometimes it gets ugly. He can be a huge prat, but he'll move heaven and earth to protect those who matter to him and he's my best friend. If you ever need any help dealing with him. Just call me. Sherlock has my number, just tell him that I told you to ask for it." Rose nodded again.

"Thanks." Rose said. John nodded as he pulled up to the kerb. "Well, here we go." Rose took a deep breath and opened the car door.

"So who is it that we're going to see?" Lestrade asked once inside of the taxi.

"Irene Adler. She knew Moriarty." Sherlock looked straight ahead. Deep in thought.

"Ah." Lestrade nodded. The taxi finally pulled up to a very posh hotel and Sherlock quickly got out of the cab. Lestrade rolled his eyes and payed the driver before quickly chasing after Sherlock. They strolled over towards elevators where the doors opened immediately. Sherlock pushed the button for the top floor.

Sherlock made his way down the hall, Greg struggling to keep up with him. They reached the last room on the left and Sherlock gave three sharp, quick knocks on the door. The stab of stilettos was heard on the other side of the door. The door opened slowly to reveal a very beautiful woman and Lestrade couldn't help but stare. "Ah Sherlock. Have you come to have dinner?" She asked him, eyeing him up like he was the most delicious steak in the world.

"No. Just to have a little chat, actually." Sherlock remained unmoved.

"Too bad." She pursed her blood, red lips and looked him up and down. Lestrade gasped audibly. Sherlock rolled his eyes and Irene flicked her gaze over to Lestrade, finally taking notice of the other man. She smirked. "Have you got yourself a new pet. Now that your old one's run off and got married. Rather unfortunate, isn't it?"

"Miss Adler, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade." Irene's eyes racked over Lestrade.

"I have always loved detectives and this one's an Inspector as well. I can just imagine how he'd look in a pair of handcuffs." She purred. Lestrade's eyes bulged and he shifted uncomfortably.

"Well are you going to invite us in?" Sherlock huffed, impatiently.

"Of course." She smirked at him and stepped back, opening the door wider.

She stepped in front of them and lead them into the sitting room. Greg couldn't help but stare as she slinked her way down the hall and she made sure to put on quite the show for the Inspector. "Take a seat, Gentlemen." Irene gestured towards two chairs while she relaxed gracefully into a settee. She crossed her legs, allowing her skirt to hike up her leg. She smirked as Lestrade almost fell out of the chair trying to get a better view of her legs. "So. You wanted to chat. What would you like to "chat" about?"

"What do you know about the whereabouts of Sebastian Moran?" Sherlock replied bluntly.

"Moran? Why should I know about him?"

"Oh please. The very man that would kill you without hesitation and you haven't been keeping tabs on him? Tell me where he is." Sherlock didn't have time for this nonsense.

"My, we are in a hurry today. Did Moran threaten John, or maybe your new friend, here?" Lestrade immediately straightened his posture.

"No. He hasn't threatened anyone that you know about. Now where is he?"

"Fine. I have been keeping tabs on him, but he's left the country. He's in Ireland. Probably trying to find a new master to slave for." She smirked. "So tell me. If it isn't John or the Inspector here, who is it that you care so much about in order to come to me for answers."

"Only my daughter." Dear Lord. That was the first time that he refered to her as that and it terrified him. He's never going to be able to take care of her and if he calls her his daughter, he'll be getting too close to the case. All of this passed through his mind in a split second as he tried to keep his face still. Irene's face momentarily fell, before she quickly replaced it with her usual smirk.

"You have been busy since I've last seen you. So, it's Daddy Holmes now. You must be so proud. Got any pictures." She said, trying to pick away at him.

"No, actually. Now why did Moran go to Ireland? That doesn't make sense."

"Damned if I know. So what's her name?" This was bugging her. Sherlock tried to use this to his advantage.

"Whose name?" He tried playing dumb.

"Your daughter's." She said with a sneer.

"I don't really see how that affects the case." Sherlock smirked.

"Oh, no. Of course not. Just for curiosities sake. You did say that we were going to have a chat. Now we're on a topic that we can chat about."

"Right. Well, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to chat about your friend Moran and what his plans are. Surely if you've been keeping tabs on him, you must know something."

"You never were very good at small talk, where you Sherlock?"

"Much to my Mother's disappointment." Sherlock drawled.

"Miss Adler, if you please. There's already been one death and could very well be another, if you don't help us." Greg was pleading now.

"Does this have anything to do with what happened at St. Bart's rooftop a few nights back?"

"Yes." Sherlock replied, eyeing her curiously.

"Right, well I certainly wasn't expecting it and I have no idea why he's in Ireland now. Anymore questions?" She asked him defiantly.

"No. I believe that we're finished here." Sherlock said standing up. Greg quickly followed suit.

"Are you sure that I can't tempt you to stay for dinner? I've got a lovely meal planned with an even better dessert." She purred.

"No. I really must be going." Sherlock said without looking back. He and Greg left the room, Lestrade trying to say a polite goodbye.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello. This is a really short chapter, but it seemed the best place to cut it. I've been getting some really great feedback for this story and want to thank everyone who's been reading it. Again, I don't own anything besides Rose... poor, poor Rose.**

"Soooo... this is it." Rose sighed. "I, uh, have some suitcases and bags that I can load stuff into. I guess I'll start with my room."

"Can I help you at all?" John asked hopefully.

"Yeah. Sure. Follow me." Rose led him to what was now her old bedroom. "OK. So, because I just moved here, I just recently went through all of the stuff so, I guess we can pack up all of it. I don't need to worry about the furniture, since the stuff is still in your old room. Um. Here's a suitcase. Did you want to start packing my books? I'll start on the rest of my clothes."

"Yeah. For sure." John said, taking the suitcase and heading towards the bookcase. He noted her vast array of books. Jane Eyre, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Miss Marple, The Little House series, The Divine Comedy, and quite a few more. Rose went to her closet and began packing things into another suitcase.

"You must read a lot." John tried making conversation.

"Yeah. I suppose so." She said with a small smile. "Do you like to read?" She tried.

"The newspaper, mainly." Rose nodded her head. "On one of the first cases that I went on with Sherlock, we had to stay up all night looking through books because there was a gang of Chinese assassins who used a book as their way of communication." John smiled fondly.

"Sherlock leads an interesting life." Rose bit her lip.

"Yeah. Although I suppose he might have to settle down a bit now." Rose nodded thoughtfully. She quietly continued packing clothes and John returned to packing the books.

"Alright. I really like these sheets and I think that they'll fit over your old bed, so I'm going to take them." John noticed that they had dragons on them.

"Dragons?" John teased.

"Hey. Don't mock the dragons. Dragons are super cool." She grinned at him. After that was packed up, she went and found a big plastic container with a fitted lid, for other things, like childhood toys and her jewelry box. She carefully picked up an old teddy bear that had been sitting on her bed and kissed him on the head before placing him in the container.

"Really? How old are you?" John giggled.

"Mortimer here is my oldest and dearest friend and he doesn't like being packed up, but unfortunately it must happen occasionally, so I have to assure him that it will be alright." She smirked.

"Yeah, I still have Bucky the Beaver from when I was a kid." He chuckled quietly. Rose giggled.

"Bucky." She giggled harder. "Well, everything is packed up in here. Now here's another plastic container for movies." John followed her to the living room and over to a buffet table of nine drawers.

"OK. They're all in here and all of them can go into the bin." John nodded. He opened the first drawer and it was stuffed with movies. It was the same thing with the next, and the next, and the next. If John had been surprised at the number of books, he was gobsmacked at the amount of movies.

"You want ALL of these movies?" He stared at her wide-eyed.

"Yeah. I'll have to get another bookshelf for my room." She said putting some of them into the container.

"Have you watched all of these movies?" John hadn't moved.

"Yeah. A lot of them more than once." She finally looked at John. "I, uh, really like movies." She blushed.

"Hmm." John nodded and finally got to work.

After they were all packed away, Rose looked around. "Umm. Well, I, uh... there's some things in my Mom's room that I would like." She said, staring at the bedroom door.

"OK. Did you want me to come along?" John asked quietly. Rose silently nodded her head. They walked silently towards the bedroom door. John slowly cracked open the door and looked around to make sure that there wasn't anything to nasty for Rose to look at. The only thing that John noticed was an open window and the bed was unmade, but other than that, there was nothing really. 'He must have bound and gagged her before she actually woke up and then lead her out the front door.' He thought to himself. He opened the door a bit wider and Rose clutched on to his hand. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"OK." She released a shaky breath. "Um. My Mom showed me where she kept her will and things in case something happened." Rose looked around the room. She quietly lead John into the room and over to the closet. She reached up onto the shelf above and pulled down an accordion file folder. "I never thought that I would need to find this." She whispered. Tears started streaming down her face. John took the folder and set it down on the bed before sitting down on the bed himself placing Rose in his lap. "Why did he take her? Why" She cried into his shoulder.

"I don't know." John whispered. He rubbed her back soothingly and tried to hold back his own tears.

"It's not fair." She whispered.

"I know. I know." He murmured. Finally after about ten minutes, Rose pulled away slightly and sniffled.

"Sorry. It's just..."

"It's OK." John reassured her. "You have every right to cry, but I promise you that Sherlock and I are going to catch the bastard that did this to your mum." Rose nodded and got off of his lap. Wiping at her eyes she grabbed suitcase from her mother's closet. She started to pack away her mother's jewelry box and the picture books from her childhood, that her mother kept. Finally, she went over to her mother's bed and carefully picked up an even older Teddy Bear.

"Oh. Rupert. I'm so sorry." She sighed and patted his head gently, before kissing his nose and placing him in the suitcase. "Alright. That should be everything. Will this all fit in your car?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah, I think so." John said, picking up the file folder. They silently walked back into the living room. Rose wheeled both suitcases and John picked up one of the plastic containers before heading out to the car. "Did you want to give me the keys and I can lock up?" John asked.

"No I, uh, forgot my Mom's perfume. I'll come back with you and take a last look around. John nodded and followed her back inside.

Rose quickly ran back into her mother's room and came back out carrying a bottle of Channel No 5. "Mom loved perfume and this one was her favorite." She explained. John picked up the other plastic container and looked around.

"Is this it?" He asked quietly. She nodded, looking around as well. With one last shaky breath and one last tear rolling down her cheek she turned around and walked into the hallway. John followed behind and waited while she locked the door.

"I guess I'll give this to the landlord." She said quietly. John nodded and waited while she quietly walked down the hall before knocking on a door. John watched as a kind looking elderly man opened the door and quickly took her into his arms for a hug. It seemed that everyone liked Rose as soon as they met her, which made this whole situation hurt even more. Rose gave the older man her set of keys while saying a quiet goodbye. Before turning back down the hall, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. When she pulled away, the man held her face in his hands and John could just make out tears streaming down his face before he kissed her on the forehead. With that, Rose turned around and walked back towards John, tears streaming down her own cheeks.

"You ready?" John asked quietly. Rose just nodded, not trusting herself to not break out into sobs. John silently followed her back outside and into the car.

**Thanks again for reading. Bucky the Beaver was an actual toy who apparently caused quite a few shed tears from my auntie when she had to give him back to her cousin. I just loved the name Bucky the Beaver and had to use it. The next chapter should be up fairly shortly.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey so here is a new chapter. Um, I hope that you all like this one. The end kind of focuses on Sherlock, and I hope that it stays in character. Again, I own nothing. **

John helped Rose bring all of the things up to the flat and into her new room. John was down in the kitchen making tea, when the doorbell rang. He quickly ran down the stairs and opened the door. Molly Hooper was standing on the doorstep with a large pot in her hands.

"Hello John. Is Sherlock and Rose home?"

"Oh, hey. Yeah, yeah. Come in." She followed him up the stairs, carefully minding the full pot and walked directly into the kitchen.

"Was that the doorbell, John?" Rose said walking down the stairs.

"Yes. Molly Hooper is here." Rose rounded the corner in to the kitchen and stopped at the sight of Molly.

"Hello." Molly said nervously. "I, um, brought you some soup that I made. I wasn't sure if Sherlock had anything other than fingers in the fridge."

"Oh. Ah. Thank you. That's very sweet of you. I've been living on tea and cookies for the past two days." Had it really only been two days. It could have been a lifetime ago. She gave a small, nervous smile to Molly.

"I, uh, also wanted to say how, how sorry I am about your Mum and that if you need anything, I'd be more than happy to help."

"Thank you. That's really kind, but I think that we're doing alright for right now." Molly nodded and worried her bottom lip.

"Would you like some tea?" John quickly asked, trying to break up any tension.

"Oh, I..."

"Please stay. I'd love to get to know you better. Sherlock seems to know you quite well." Molly nodded her head.

"Ye, yes. I'm, I'm his Path... pathologist." Molly blushed. John pulled out a chair for Molly and gestured for her to take a seat.

"Milk, sugar?" He asked.

"Bit of both, please, John." Molly replied.

"Oh, sorry we're out of milk. I'll have to tell Sherlock to pick some up." John replied.

"Just sugar, than. Thanks."

"I'll take mine as is. Thank you." Rose said sitting down opposite Molly.

"So, you're Sherlock's pathologist?"

"Well, I mean I help him on cases. I do the autopsies."

"Sherlock must really like your work. You must be quite good." Molly blushed again.

"I'm, uh, the only one that will work with him. He irritates everybody else." Rose snorted.

"Sorry, that's just... that sounds like Sherlock, but in all honesty, I'm sure that he must really like the work you do in order to make sure that you stick around." Molly smiled down at her tea.

"Molly helped kill Sherlock, actually. She's quite something." John sounded like a proud parent. Molly's blush grew.

"Well, I just followed his directions."

"So, Molly, did you study at Bart's?"

"No, actually. I got my PhD from Cambridge."

"Oh wow. You must be really smart."

"Not really." Molly grinned. "I just found it interesting."

"I bet. It must be fascinating doing what you do all day." Rose started getting excited.

"Well I enjoy it. Actually I had conducted a very interesting autopsy today. There was this man who looked like he had a heart attack..." From then on, Molly and Rose became fast friends. Molly told her about her life and about how her desire to become a pathologist started at a young age. Rose told her all about living in Canada. She told her about her mother and though she got a bit sad talking about her, she was glad to be able to tell someone about how wonderful her mother was. When it was around supper time, John excused himself, saying that he had to get back to Mary and Kensie. He made sure to give them both a kiss on the cheek before he left. Rose began heating up the soup and got a bowl for Molly and herself.

"This soup is really good." Rose said, finishing up the last bit of her bowl. "I'm awful at cooking." She grinned.

"Oh this was nothing, really. I just made a bit of stock and threw in some vegetables and noodles. It's dead simple."

"Well, it's delicious none-the-less." She said smiling at Molly.

"I really must be getting home. I have to feed my cat, Toby. He was already grumpy at me this morning since he's on a diet." Rose chuckled. Molly stood up and started putting on her coat when Sherlock walked through the door.

"Oh, Sherlock. You're back." Rose greeted him.

"Yes. I had to go down to Scotland Yard. Not that it was much help. Incompetent idiots." He grumbled. Finally he noticed Molly. "Hello Molly."

"Hi Sherlock. I was, uh, just leaving." She blushed.

"Yes. Have to feed your cat." Molly merely nodded.

"Molly brought soup over. It's really good. Can I get you a bowl?" Rose asked expectantly.

"No. Thank you." Sherlock said curtly. He had to distance himself from her. It was for her own safety, really, he reasoned.

"Are you sure? I haven't seen you eat anything, but a couple of cookies for the past few days." She tried.

"I don't eat when I'm working. Slows me down." He said not bothering to look at her. Instead he sat down in his chair and steepled his hands and closed his eyes.

"Well I'll see you later. Did you get my mobile number?" Molly asked Rose.

"Oh. Yes. You gave it to me a little while ago. Thanks." Molly smiled.

"Bye, Sherlock." She said quietly, walking towards the door.

"Hmm." Was his only reply. After Molly left. Rose sat in John's chair.

"Soup's still warm if you change your mind." She said quietly.

"No." Sherlock cut out. Rose nodded her head and looked at the ground. Suddenly, her mobile started ringing.

"Hello? Oh. Hello Uncle Mycroft." She said standing up and taking a few steps away. "

"Hello. I'm sorry that I couldn't do this in person. I've been held up at the office. This whole Ukrainian crisis." Molly could hear the regret in his voice.

"Oh. That's fine Uncle Mycroft. That's terribly important." She assured him.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'll be taking care of all of the funeral arrangements. Do you know what your mother wanted."

"Oh, uh. She didn't want a funeral and she had her organ donor card signed, so Bart's is covering the cremation costs. She told me that if I was going to do anything, to just have a small get-together." She replied quietly.

"In that case I have a spot picked out where you can spread the ashes or bury the urn if you want."

"Thank you. Where is it?" She asked.

"It's at my country home. I have a few acres of land and a spot that I believe will do the trick."

"That's very kind of you; thank you Uncle. When were you wanting to do this?"

"I was going to pick you and Sherlock up on Friday and then send a car over for everyone else on Saturday. You and Sherlock will be staying the weekend. If that's what you would like, of course."

"Oh, yes. That sounds nice. Thank you."

"So, the car will pick up Mrs. Hudson, John and Mary, and Lestrade. Did you have anyone else in mind?"

"Molly Hooper, please. I met her this afternoon and she said that she would want to come."

"Of course. I'll let them know as soon as I can. Will you be needing anything for the service?"

"No. I don't even need a preacher. Oh, do you have some sort of small, portable music player. It's just that my Mom mentioned that she wanted a couple of songs played at her funeral. I could get the playlist together, if that's not too much trouble."

"None at all, my Dear. Is that all that you'll be needing? I'll, of course have some tea and dainties prepared for afterwards."

"No. That should do it. Thank you again, Uncle." She sighed.

"Of course, my Dear. Now, you go to bed and try to get some rest. You've had a busy couple of days." Mycroft smiled on the other end of the line.

"Yes. I will. Goodnight, Uncle Mycroft."

"Goodnight, my Dear. Sleep well."

Sherlock made sure not to glance at her while she was on the phone. Frankly, he was shocked at Mycroft's behaviour. Mycroft shouldn't be playing the loving Uncle. Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side. What was it about this small girl that drew people to her? Why had she been able to melt "The Iceman" where others had completely failed? This wasn't fair. He didn't want to be the one that had to remain distant in order to protect her. When they had spent that first night talking, he found that he had enjoyed her company. She seemed to be quite intelligent for her age and she didn't ask stupid questions. She didn't question his 'mind palace,' instead she seemed curious, wanting to understand it better and she encouraged him. She didn't mind his experiments, in fact, it seemed that she wouldn't be adverse to helping him with them. She even liked to joke with him and she was easy to talk to when she wasn't crying. Sherlock had never wanted children, but if he had, he would have wanted a child rather like her.

Rose sat down tentatively across from him in front of the fireplace. She looked at him nervously and bit her lip before quietly speaking up. "Sherlock." Sherlock turned a harsh look on her, but she didn't back down. "Sherlock, you look like you haven't slept in the past two days."

"I haven't." He bit out, sharply.

"You should try to get some sleep. It would be good for..."

"I don't sleep while on cases if I can avoid it." He had returned to his usual thinking position.

"Well, it's just that I... well, I need you to take care of yourself. I don't want to lose another parent."

"I'm not your parent!" Sherlock bit out louder than he had intended. Sherlock's eyes cracked open and saw Rose staring at him with wide eyes and her bottom lip quivering slightly.

"Yes. Of cour.. course. Sorry. I, uh. Sorry." She said quickly before ducking her head and hurrying up the stairs.

Sherlock swore inwardly. He hadn't wanted to hurt her like that, he merely needed to keep her at a distance. He ran his fingers through his hair and ground his teeth. This is exactly the reason he could never be her father. He could barely get people his own age to like him, never mind a teenage girl. He couldn't be caring and compassionate as his father had been. He had deduced that her father had left before she was born and he couldn't bring himself to give her another bad example of fatherhood. Perhaps he could convince Mycroft to take her. He seemed to be enjoying being the loving, caring, parent-like figure. Sherlock thought it over for a moment. Something about her leaving made his chest feel tight and he didn't want her belong to anyone else. Frustrated he got up and started playing the violin.

After playing a few of his own compositions, Sherlock took a deep breath and started playing new song. It wasn't like his usual songs, it was sweet and airy, but had a hint of sadness and throughout there were touches of mystery and whimsy. Sherlock had been playing it for awhile, perfecting it, when it occurred to him that it sounded like Rose. Making up his mind he set down his violin and walked up the stairs to Rose's room.

Sherlock knocked quietly at the door. "Yes?" Came the quiet shaky reply from the other side. Sherlock took a deep breath and closed his eyes before opening the door. Looking down at the floor he spoke in his low, baritone voice.

"I wanted to apologise for my earlier outburst. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

"No. It's fine." Sherlock finally looked up at Rose. She sat cross legged with a teddy bear in her lap. It was too old to be her's, so it had to be her mother's. Sherlock also noted how the room smelt of Channel No 5. Rose must have sprayed her mother's perfume on the bear. 'She's sentimental.' He thought with a sigh. "I'm not mad at you and it wouldn't be right of me to get mad at you anyway. You were just stating the truth. You're not my parent." That hurt more than if she had socked him in the gut. "You don't have to worry about me Sherlock, I'll be alright." She tried to smile at him. "I shouldn't have said what I did, down there. I'm sorr..."

"Don't." Sherlock cut her off.

"Don't apologise for my mistake towards you." Rose merely stared at him. "You have every right to want and need a parent, especially now." Rose looked at the bedspread before gulping and looking back up at him. Sherlock was trying to plead with his eyes, he had to make her see what he meant.

"I just don't think that I could ever be that parent." He turned around and was about to go back downstairs.

"Sherlock." He paused and looked back at her. "Sherlock, please wait." He stepped into her room. "Sherlock. John told me that you find it hard to express sentiment and that's fine. Really, it is. But I want you to know that in these past two days, you've been more of a father to me than my biological one ever has. I didn't even need to ask for your help before you were doing everything you could to protect me. I hadn't even known you five minutes before you let me cry into your shoulder for almost an entire day." Sherlock took a step further into her room. "And don't think that I can't see how difficult that was for you, but you let me." She gave him a small smile. "I've lost my Mother and I've never had a father, but I would love to at least be your friend. If you would allow me to help you, with your experiments, or your cases, and if you let me take care of you, I promise that I would be a loyal friend." Sherlock stared at her and nodded blankly. He sat down in the desk chair that he had sat in the night before. She wordlessly took his hand and gave him a small smile. Sherlock let his eyes close.

"Sherlock. You look awful." He cracked an eye open at her and frowned. She grinned mischievously at him. "I was right you know. You need to sleep. Go to bed."

"No I'm fine here." Sherlock let his eyes drift close again and relaxed back into the seat.

"Sherlock. That's a wooden chair. You're going to hurt your neck."

"I'm a heavy sleeper and I won't hear you if you have a nightmare and I'm downstairs." Rose smiled fondly at him.

"Well I won't let you hurt your neck on account of me. You can sleep on my bed tonight." She tugged on his hand.

"I'm fine here." Sherlock mumbled out, almost asleep.

"Sherlock. Stop being stubborn. Lie down on the bed." She tugged harder on his hand. Sherlock reluctantly flopped forward onto the bed,not bothering to stand up fully. He rolled onto his back and Rose turned off the lamp.

Sherlock woke up in the middle of the night when he was kicked. "Hmm?" He took in his surroundings.

"Don't take him. Please. Dad. Don't go." She was having another nightmare. 'Dad?' Sherlock was perplexed.

"Rose. It's OK. I'm here." He said holding her shoulders. Rose seemed to calm down.

"Dad?" She asked still asleep. "Yes... I'm here." He replied hesitantly. Rose hummed her approval in her sleep and relaxed again. Sherlock shifted back onto the bed. His last thought before he fell back asleep was 'What have I gotten myself into?'


	10. Chapter 10

**OH WHAT?! I got a new chapter up already. Props to me. This chapter isn't too exciting. It's mainly just Rose and Sherlock getting to know each other a bit better. I hope that you enjoy it. You all have totally made my day with the responses and follows. I get equally excited each and every time I get a review or a new follower. You all ROCK! Anyway, enjoy. Again, I don't own anything besides Rose.**

Sherlock awoke the next morning to an empty bed. He sat up and ran his fingers though his hair while yawning. He got out of bed and made his way downstairs. Rose was sitting cross-legged on his chair, eating a bowl of cereal and watching telly. "Mrs. Hudson gave you some milk and cereal I suppose?"

"Oh." She jumped slightly. "Morning. Yeah." Sherlock nodded and laid down on the couch. He squinted at the television.

"What on earth are you watching?"

"Spongebob." She replied without taking her eyes off of the set.

"Spongebob?" He asked. "Yeah. Spongebob Squarepants. You've never heard of it?"

"God, no. What is it?"

"It's a cartoon. It's about this sponge who lives under the sea in a town called Bikini Bottom and his best friend is a starfish..."

"Sea Star." Sherlock interrupted her.

"Sorry?"

"It's not a starfish, it's called a Sea Star."

"Hmm." She replied around a mouth-full of Lucky Charms. She swallowed and continued on with her synopsis of the show.

"Anyway, he's best friends with a Sea Star named Patrick Star and he's a fry cook at a resturant called the Krusty Krab."

"Sounds dull and insipid." Sherlock replied closing his eyes, resting his hands behind his head.

"It's funny." She continued eating her cereal.

"I'm going to take a shower." Sherlock got off of the couch.

"Ok." She replied, fully engrossed in her cartoon. "Oh. Uncle Mycroft said that he's picking us tomorrow to go to his house for the weekend and we're having a get-together on Saturday for Mom." Sherlock nodded, not bothering to argue. His brother would just get mad at him and threaten to tell Mummy anyway. Sherlock went off to take his shower.

"No plans for today then?" Rose asked, after he stepped out of his room, dressed in his pyjamas.

"No. Apparently Moran is in Ireland and I've learned all that I can for now. We have to wait for Mycroft's men to gather information about him." Rose nodded thoughtfully. "Why? Did you want to do anything?"

"Not really."

"I was thinking that I could conduct an experiment today though. I have a few fingers in the freezer that I wanted to use." He got himself a cup of coffee.

"Want kind of experiment?"

"I wanted to see how different household chemicals would affect their decomposition."

"That sounds cool."

"Yeah. Want to help?"

"Yeah, sure." She smiled at him. He smiled back.

"Hey, Sherlock. I just wanted to see how you two were doing? You haven't scared her off or any..." John was utterly gobsmacked at the scene that lay before him. Sherlock and Rose were conducting some sort of experiment on what looked like fingers. Rose was writing all of the data down and she and Sherlock were both concentrated on the project ahead of them.

"Hello, John. Sorry. We don't mean to be rude. We just need to time this out properly. There's coffee." Rose offered him a quick smile.

"Uh. Yeah. Thanks." John poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from them.

"So... what's the experiment?" He asked tentatively.

"How household chemicals affect the decomposition of these fingers." Rose explained without taking her eyes off of the experiment.

"Oh. A bit of the skin fell off from the left index finger." Sherlock said excitedly.

"That was the oven cleaner." Rose said, writing down the information.

"Right, well you seem to be alright. I just wanted to see what was going on. We got a call this morning from Mycroft." John explained, still rather perplexed.

"Oh. Was that about going to his house on Saturday?"

"Yes."

"OK. We're going out tomorrow and staying for the weekend. Are you bringing Kensie?" She asked, clicking a button on a stopwatch as a blister popped on that same left index finger. John winced.

"We weren't sure if you'd want her to be there. She might get kind of fussy at a funeral."

"Oh, never mind that. It's not really a funeral, it's just a small thing. I'd love to have her along if you'd be comfortable with that."

"Yeah. OK then. We'll do that. Well I best be off. Have to check a few in on things at the office." He said draining the last of his coffee and standing up.

"Bye John. Have a good day." She said cheerily.

He didn't expect an answer from Sherlock, he was too engrossed in his experiment. He was quite surprised though when Sherlock picked up a seemingly left over thumb and brought it close to Rose's face. He was even more surprised when Sherlock said in a high, squeaky voice "Rose. Kiss me. Love me. I'm a lonely thuuummmmbbbb." He said while grinning. Rose ducked her head and burst out laughing.

"Ew. No. Cut it out Sherlock." John shook his head and walked back down the stairs.

The rest of the day was spent finishing up the experiment and packing for the weekend. Finally after all of that was done, Rose made the both of them hot chocolate and they looked over their data and talking. "Sherlock. When does school start here? It's almost fall time and I'm going to have to go to school."

"Hm? Oh! That's right. School. Well, uh... I'll look into that." Sherlock said, sipping his hot chocolate.

"Are you going to be sleeping tonight, Sherlock?" She seemed to understand that he wouldn't ever eat or sleep regularly, so she just had to make sure that he wasn't doing too much harm to himself.

"Not sure. I'll probably play the violin for awhile."

"Oh that sounds lovely." Rose smiled at him. Sherlock could see just how excited she was, her eyes were big and round and she had a bright smile lighting up her face.

"You like the violin?" He asked.

"Oh, yeah. I love music in general. Everything from Handel to The Hives and everything in between." Sherlock nodded thoughtfully, making sure to add The Hives to his mind palace to look them up later. He might be able to transcribe one of their songs onto violin to play for her. He didn't know why he wanted to do that, or why he let that thought take up room in his mind palace, but Rose looked so happy and he liked how she looked when she was happy. He wanted to make sure that she stayed happy. "I'm going to take a bath. You have a claw-foot bathtub and I plan on making the most of it." She said, standing up excitedly. While she took her bath, Sherlock allowed himself to think of all of the things that would make Rose happy. He had an idea. He quickly pulled out his phone and pulled up Mycroft's number.

"Sherlock, you're coming this weekend. I don't care what you have to say. This is important to..."

"Of course I'm coming, Mycroft. Don't be an idiot. No. I'm calling because I need you to get some people to come over and decorate her room while we're over there this weekend."

"Sherlock. What brings on this sentiment? This wouldn't be fatherhood making you soft, is it Sherlock?"

"Oh, shut up _Uncle_ Mycroft. Are you going to help me or not?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes. It is actually a good idea. Any plans on the design?"

"I'll text you them. She's getting out of the bath. And Mycroft, if you breathe one word of this to her, I'll..."

"Oh, relax Sherlock. Despite what you may think of me, I don't take pleasure in spoiling surprises for people, least of all my niece." With that they both hung up as Rose walked out of the bathroom.


	11. Chapter 11

**Yay, another chapter. I REALLY hope that you all like this one. I want to believe that Mycroft would do something like this, because honestly, one of the main reasons that I wrote this fic is because I believe that Mycroft would be the world's best uncle and I want to see that so bad. Let me know what you think. Enjoy. Again, I don't own anything.**

Sherlock woke Rose up early the next morning. "Good morning Sherlock. Did you sleep at all?" She asked groggily, still stretching in bed.

"No. I wasn't very tired. You didn't seem to have any nightmares." He stated.

"Hmm? Oh. If I did, they weren't nearly as bad." She yawned.

"Good. Mycroft will be here in about an hour. I figured that you would want to eat and get dressed."

"Yes. Thank you." She smiled brightly at him.

An hour later, right on schedule, a black car pulled up in front of 221 Baker St. Rose double checked to make sure she had her iPod with playlist that she had made last night and that she had everything else that she would need. Footsteps were heard patting up the stairs and Mycroft walked into the flat. "Good morning, my Dear. Did you sleep well?" He smiled fondly at her.

"Yes. Thank you, Uncle." She gave him a quick hug as a way of greeting.

"Good morning, Sherlock. You've been taking care of my niece, I take it."

"Of course I have, Mycroft. Do give me some credit." He rolled his eyes.

"Well are you ready to go?"

"Yes. I think so." She replied to Mycroft.

"Good. The car is just downstairs. I'll take your bag."

"Mycroft, you have gone soft. I believe that your niece has ruined you." Sherlock said in mock surprise before smirking. Mycroft merely grinned at him.

"What can I say? I've got a good niece." With that they walked down the stairs and into the waiting car.

The car ride was rather pleasant and after reading for a bit, Rose fell asleep on Mycroft's shoulder. Mycroft sat perfectly still while finishing up some business on his phone. He made sure to text, as he did not want to disturb Rose. Rose scrunched up her face and made a little whining noise in her sleep. "Dad?" She asked still asleep.

"Yes. I'm here." Sherlock replied quietly, taking her hand.

"She calls you "Dad" now?" Mycroft asked, not taking his eyes off of his phone.

"At least in her sleep." Sherlock replied, looking at Rose. Mycroft grinned, but let the subject go. Soon enough, they pulled up in front of the house.

"Rose, my Dear. We're here. Wake up, Dear." Mycroft gently shook her.

"Hmm? Oh. We're here." Rose asked, stretching. She looked around, and her jaw dropped. "This is your country house?" She asked incredulously. Mycroft merely smiled at her and got out of the car.

"Come along, Dear. You bags will be brought to your room." He helped her out of the car and the three of them walked into the house.

They all sat down in the parlor and tea was quickly brought out by a maid. Rose sat, staring in wonderment at her surroundings. "So, how have you been?" Mycroft asked breaking the silence.

"Oh. Well enough." She replied tentatively. "I didn't have any nightmares last night so that was good. I think that it's because I had a nice day yesterday."

"Ah. What was it that you did?"

"Sherlock and I conducted an experiment on some fingers. It was really interesting and I had a lot of fun." Mycroft had his fingers steepled as he smiled at her.

"That sounds rather interesting. So have you finally found a good assistant for your experiments, Sherlock?"

"Yes, actually. Rose proved to be quite helpful." He gave Mycroft a tight-lipped smile. The conversation dropped and they sat in silence, sipping their tea, for another moment.

"Rose, my Dear, I have something for you." Mycroft said, pulling a narrow, rectangular box from his pocket.

"Oh. That's very kind of you, Uncle. I hope that you don't think that you needed to get me this. You've been more than generous already."

"Nonsense." Mycroft exclaimed, quickly silencing her. "I just thought that you would like this. Here." Rose lifted the velvet box out of his hand and slowly opened it. When she saw what was in it, she gasped quietly.

"Thank you, Uncle Mycroft. It's beautiful." She whispered. In the box was a delicate silver chain and on the chain was a locket, about two inches in length and one inch in width. On the front of the locket was a tree that that was carved into the silver. Embedded in the tree were three gems. One sat near the base of the tree and two were on two separate branches that were wound together near the top. Rose stared at the pendant when it suddenly dawned on her that this obviously symbolizes something. "This gem here," She pointed to one of the gems in the branches. "Is that a peridot?"

"Yes." Mycroft nodded.

"That's my birthstone. My Mother was born April 15, and her birthstone is a diamond." She gestured to gem near the base of the tree. "Sherlock, when is your birthday?"

"January 6." He replied, looking at her carefully.

"Your birthstone is a garnet, right?" He nodded slowly. "Uncle, this tree..." She said in barely a whisper before her voice caught in her throat. "Did you, did you have this made?"

"Yes." He replied barely nodding his head.

"Oh." Tears began to stream down her face and she bit her lip. The two brothers looked at each other nervously, neither sure if Mycroft had done something wrong. "This is the most thoughtful gift you ever could have given me. It's beautiful." She quickly stood up and walked over to where Mycroft was sitting. He stood up, looking at her nervously. Rose threw her arms around him and held him tight as she cried into his shoulder. Mycroft slowly raised his hands up and patted her back, unsure what to do, although it seemed that he hadn't done anything wrong.

After a few moments, Rose's sobs quieted and she sniffled into his suit. "Rose." He whispered to her. "You haven't opened the locket." Rose pulled away from him and smiled while she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She held up the box that she had been holding with her other hand and gently removed the necklace. She set the empty box down on a side table and held the locket in her right hand. She carefully pushed a small button on the side that unlocked the locket. She smiled gently upon seeing the picture that was inside. It was a picture of her mother, the mother that she always remembered, with a big smile and warm, welcoming eyes.

"Thank you. This really is beautiful. Could you help me put it on?" She asked holding the necklace out to him.

"Of course." He smiled. Rose turned around to face Sherlock and lifted her hair up off of her neck. She smiled at Sherlock and to his surprise he smiled back. A genuine smile. One reserved for people that he cared about.

"There you go. Let me see." Rose brought her hands back down to her sides and turned around with a big, bright smile on her face. "I knew that it would suit you. You look lovely, my Dear." He smiled warmly at her. Rose thoughtfully rubbed her hand over the pendant and took a deep breath. "I thought it appropriate since peridots are supposed to protect you from nightmares and give you power. The garnet is a sign of eternal friendship and trust and, of course, diamonds are forever." He smiled and puffed out his chest with pride. Rose almost would have giggled if it hadn't been so sweet. "I of course made sure that it was a Canadian diamond."

"Of course. You always think of everything." She smiled at him.

"Yes. Even that superstitious nonsense." Sherlock drawled.

"Sherlock. You know that neither of us are superstitious, but it's the sentiment behind those beliefs." She admonished him. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but a hint of guilt spilled over into his features. Rose gave her uncle one last hug.

"Now that you've seen the parlor, why don't I show you the rest of the house?" He said, holding out his arm for her to grip. She reached out and grasped his arm as she smiled brightly and the three of them left the parlor to explore the rest of the house.

"This food is so good. Your cook is absolutely amazing." Rose praised during dinner. The three of them sat at one end of a rather large dinning room table.

"I'll make sure to pass on your compliments." Mycroft smiled. Rose yawned and leaned back in her chair. "Rose. You've had a big day. Why don't you go to bed?" Sherlock gave her a small smile. Rose nodded and stretched.

"Um. Sherlock?"

"My bedroom is right bedside yours and I will be going to bed shortly. There's no need to worry." He grinned, anticipating the question.

"Good. That's good. Thank you. Goodnight, Uncle. Thank you for all of this. It means so much." She bent down to kiss him on the cheek.

"Goodnight, my Dear. Sleep well." He avoided telling her that she would have a rather tiring day as well tomorrow. With that, she gave the both of them a bright smile and went off to the staircase that lead up to the bedrooms.

"She trusts you, Sherlock."

"I know. She's sentimental, as well."

"She see's you as her father."

"Yes." Sherlock frowned at the ground.

"Are you?" Mycroft cocked an eyebrow at his brother.

"Am I what?" Sherlock glared at Mycroft.

"Her father?"

"Well seeing as the only time I've seen her mother was when she was..."

"You know very well what I mean, Sherlock. Don't play obtuse. It doesn't suit you."

"You always seemed to think it did growing up." Sherlock ground out.

"Oh please. I made sure that you weren't a complete moron." Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, I wouldn't be surprised if that girl loves you."

"She says that she will be a loyal friend. I could never be her father." Mycroft nodded and sipped the wine that was sitting in front of him. "I better go to my room." Sherlock said, pushing away from the table. He was almost out the door when Mycroft spoke up.

"Yes. Any good father would make sure to chase the boogeyman away for his daughter." Sherlock had paused in the doorway and clenched his hands before resuming his pace to the staircase.


	12. Chapter 12

**OK. So here is the funeral chapter. The songs that I've mentioned here, I of course don't own, but are songs that my Mum said that she would want played at her funeral. I also decided to end this chapter on a happier note, so I hope that that's alright. Overall, I hope that you enjoy it and let please, let me know what you think. Thanks. **

**I don't own any of the songs or characters besides Rose.**

Rose woke up the next morning trembling. The whole night, she had been plagued by nightmares, so much so, that Sherlock ended up lying in her bed so that he was right there when the next one started. She blearily rubbed her eyes and got up to take a shower.

Rose came down the staircase into the dinning room for breakfast. She was dressed in a black shift dress, adorned with her mother's pearl necklace. She didn't bother with foundation and only applied a coat of waterproof mascara. "Morning. Would you care for some breakfast?" Mycroft peered over his newspaper, giving her a small smile. Rose shook her head and sat down quietly.

"When are the others getting here?" She asked breaking the silence.

"In about an hour." Mycroft glanced at his watch. They fell back into silence.

Twenty minutes later, Sherlock joined them dressed in his regular suit, but with a black tie added to the ensemble. "Morning, Sherlock. Breakfast?" Rose attempted to smile at him.

"No. Thank you." He attempted to smile back at her. No one knew what to say. They didn't want to talk about why they were here. Rose didn't want to burst into tears, so she focused on twiddiling her fingers, while Sherlock went through his mind palace and Mycroft read the paper. Finally they heard the doorbell followed by the sound of the maid's footsteps.

The guests were shown into the dinning room. All looked quite somber. The three seated at the table stood up, politely. Rose walke over to were they were hovering in the doorway. "Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming." Everyone nodded back to her, giving small, encouraging smiles. Rose gently smiled at Kensie. "Hello, Sweetheart. How are you today."

"I'm afraid that she may be a bit grumpy. She just woke..." Mary was interrupted by a happy gurrgle from her daughter who was reaching for Rose. "Or not. Do you want to go see Rose?" She asked her daughter and held her out to her. Rose took her into her arms and kissed her cheek.

"Hey there, Pumpkin." Kensie smiled at her and clung onto Rose's neck.

"Well if everyone's ready, maybe we should get this started. Do you have what you need, Dear?" Mycroft asked quietly.

"Yes. Lead the way, Uncle." Everyone started to follow. John and Mary walking beside Sherlock.

"Did she just call him "Uncle?"" John whispered to his friend. Sherlock nodded tersely. John and Mary both grinned, both at the fact that it seemed quite out of character for Mycroft and to, Sherlock seemed a tiny bit jealous.

They all walked over the small hills and through the beautiful wildflowers that were growing. After a short walk, they walked up a slightly larger hill. When they had reached the top; everyone, except Mycroft and Sherlock, stared in wonderment at the beautiful sight. It overlooked a small lake and a beautiful willow tree grew on the top of the hill. Mycroft's groundskeeper, Robert, was already there with a shovel; music player; and a small, wooden box that contained her mother's ashes.

Mary offered to take Kensie, but Kensie wouldn't hear of it and Rose quickly told her that she didn't mind. It was nice holding Kensie. She was warm and she could feel her chest expand with her breath. Rose gently swayed back and forth and kissed Kensie's cheek while Robert dug a small grave for the box. Sherlock silently moved closer to Rose. She held Kensie in one hand and grabbed Sherlock's with the other. Tears streamed down her cheeks while she tried to choke down the sobs that were threatening to erupt.

After Robert backed away from the grave, Rose noticed that carved into the tree right above the grave, was her Mother's name. She smiled slightly at the thoughfulness of it. Robert handed Mycroft the little wooden box and he brought it over to her for a final goodbye. Rose choked back a sob and whispered "Goodbye, Mom. I love you." She bent her head slightly and placed a gentle kiss to the top of the box. Kensie studied her carefully and when Rose straightened up, she noticed the little girl looking thoughtfully at her. She looked at the little girl and smiled gently. Kensie looked at her very solemnly and gently pressed her hands to her lips. She then looked back at the box in Mycroft's hands and rested her hand on the top of the box, seeming to say goodbye as well. Everyone stared incredulously at Kensie, while Mary and Mrs. Hudson burst into tears and Rose smiled at her gently while the tears streamed out of her eyes faster. "Thank you." She whispered to Kensie.

Sherlock reached into her pocket and took out her iPod that was already set to the playlist that she wanted to play. He connected it to the music played while Mycroft walked back over to the grave and laid the box inside of it. Billie Holiday's voice soon broke the silence while she sang "They Can't Take That Away From Me." Everyone stood quietly, until Rose felt brave enough to start talking. "Thank you for coming. I wish that you could've met Mom. She would have liked you all. She was really good and sweet. She had a great sense of humour." She smiled. "We had a lot of fun together. She would take me swimming or we would ride our bikes together.

"She was so excited about moving here." She breathed deeply. "And I'm going to miss her a lot." She choked out. Sherlock gripped her hand tightly. "But as much as I'll miss her, I know that she would be glad that I have so many great people looking after me now. She always wished that we had a bit of a larger family, now I have one." She looked down at the ground. Billie Holiday turned into Ella Fitzgerald singing "Thanks for the Memories." "You all have been so good to me. It means more than I can ever express." She held Kensie to her a bit tighter. "Even though I don't believe that she's looking down on me right now, I know that she would have been smiling; and maybe calling me sappy mess for crying so much." She smiled. Everyone smiled while dabbing at their eyes. Even Mycroft was biting his lips, willing himself silently not to cry. Everyone was quite for a bit and the song changed to Benny Goodman and Peggy Lee's cover of "We'll Meet Again." Her mother would have liked that she picked a rather upbeat song to end off with.

"Goodbye Mom. I hope that I can do you proud." She smiled as a bird twittered overhead somewhere. Robert silently filling the grave back in and Mary handed her a bunch of flowers that she had the forethought to pick on the way to hill. She smiled gratefully and placed them over the spot that her mother was now buried. As the song finished, Sherlock disconnected her iPod and and handed it back to her. They all turned and walked back to the house.

The next day was a rainy day and Rose wandered around the mansion looking for something to do. She was exploring the house when she came upon the kitchen. An idea struck her and she quickly went upstairs to find her Uncle.

"Uncle? Could I do some baking?" She asked standing in the doorway of his office. Mycroft looked up from the papers he was studying and smiled at her.

"Of course, my Dear. Can you find everything alright?"

"Yes. Thank you." She smiled at him and went off to find Sherlock.

"Sherlock. I was going to do some baking? Wanna help?" She smiled at him. Sherlock didn't look up from his phone.

"I don't bake." He replied.

"What do you mean "you don't bake?" It's chemistry?" Sherlock sighed and looked up at her. She grinned at him. "Please?"

"Fine." Sherlock huffed. He wasn't going to enjoy this, he promised himself.

"OK. Seriously. How are you the worst baker ever? You literally have a recipe in front of you and a mixer? All that you have to do is put the ingredients in the bowl." Rose laughed at Sherlock's flour covered front.

"I told you, I don't bake." He answered.

"Yeah, I know that now." She chuckled. She kissed Sherlock's cheek and turned the mixer back on at the lowest speed.

"So how much flour would you say didn't end up in the bowl?"

"One hundred and three grams." He surveyed the mess.

"OK. Measure out one hundred and three grams and I'LL put it into the mixer." She grinned. Despite him promising himself, he couldn't help but grin back at her.

After the cookies were in the oven, they cleaned up the mess. Rose even got Sherlock to do the dishes while she swept. They spent the rest of the day relaxing and eating the cookies. Rose made sure to bring Mycroft out of his office, stating that the country wouldn't mind if he relaxed and ate a few of his niece's cookies for an afternoon. Rose asked them questions about their lives and broke up arguments that rose among the brothers. All in all, it was a lovely day.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello. Sorry that it's been awhile since my last update, but this chapter is fairly long to try to make up for it. As always, I don't own anything besides Rose.**

The next morning, they rose rather early to get back to London. Sherlock and Mycroft were both rather eager to have her see her room. The trip back was fairly quiet, all of them were rather occupied with either reading or working. When the car pulled up in front of 221, Sherlock asked Mycroft if he would come in for tea. That already made Rose suspicious and when Mycroft accepted, she knew that something was going on. They hurried up the stairs. Rose was about to go start the kettle when Sherlock stopped her. "Aren't you going to put your bag in your room?"

"I was just boiling the water for tea." She stared at him quizzically.

"We don't want tea. Go to your room." Sherlock said hurriedly.

"Fine. Geez. You think I was grounded or something." Sherlock and Mycroft waited until she was halfway up the stairs before they followed her.

Rose slowly opened the door and gasped. "Oh my god!" She exclaimed. "Oh! It's beautiful." She turned around to find the two men grinning at her. "This is just... oh. Wow. It's T.A.R.D.I.S. blue and my bed is bigger and OH MY GOD! IS THAT WALL A CHALK BOARD!?" She ran over to the one wall that was painted black and found a box of chalk and erasers sitting by the floor. "This is the best. Thank you so..." She turned around to face them and noticed the flat screen television. "Holy flat screen TV, Batman!" Sherlock and Mycroft looked at each other, both very confused. She ran over to the telly. "You guys got me a Playstation 4 and a Wii U? This is too much. How did you... what in the world... thank you so much!" She ran over to them and hugged each of them tightly and kissed both of their cheeks.

"Sherlock is the one who planned it." Mycroft said, allowing his younger brother to take the credit, although he felt the older brother side of him dashing him over the head.

"Sherlock. This is fantastic. I can't believe it." Sherlock smiled. He looked so proud of himself. It was one of the sweetest things that Rose had ever seen.

"Well, why don't you unpack and take a look around. We'll be downstairs." Mycroft said, grabbing his brother by the arm and dragging him away. The brothers walked quickly down the stairs and stopped in shock at the bottom.

"Hello, Sherlock. I was wondering if you're hungry." Irene Adler smirked at them.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Sherlock ground out.

"I just told, besides, I wanted to see this daughter of yours." Mycroft glanced at Sherlock. "Well. Where is she?" She asked, lounging in Sherlock's chair. Sherlock brought out his phone.

"John. Come to Baker Street at once."

John hurried up the stairs of his old flat. He was panicking that something had happened to Rose. "WHAT? WHAT IS IT SHERLOCK? WHAT'S THE..." The words died off as his eyes fell on the scene before him. Mycroft was sitting in John's chair and was gripping the armrests so hard that his knuckles were white. Sherlock was perched on the couch and glared at Irene, who had merely wrapped herself up in Sherlock's chair, much like a cat.

"What is she doing here?" John glanced nervously at Sherlock. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but was beaten to the punch by Irene.

"I wanted to meet this daughter of his that he told me about." Her blood red lips quirked into a smile.

"Sherlock told you about... daughter?" He looked confusedly at the man in question. He hadn't expected that Sherlock would refer to her as his daughter. They were interrupted by the sound of feet padding down the stairs.

"Sherlock. Did I hear John come in... Oh. Sorry. Are you with a client? I'll just..."

"You're a Canadian!" Irene stared at her incredulously. Rose feigned a shocked expression and looked down at herself. She looked back up at Irene and put on her best Canadian accent.

"Holy moose-canoes. You're right. Well, douse me in maple syrup and call me a "hooser." I'm just going to go get my plaid shirt and ride my ski doo back to my hockey rink. Sorry aboot interupptin' ya, eh."

John snorted and broke out into hysterical laughter, quickly followed by Sherlock. Mycroft was biting his upper lip, trying not to join his younger brother. Rose smirked at the glaring Irene and was just about to turn around when Irene stopped her. "So, he's not your real father. I should have guessed." She smirked. Rose turned back around and looked at her sternly.

"If he is introducing me as his daughter, I believe that I can presume that, that makes him my father." She glanced at Sherlock.

"I mean, he's not your biological father, he merely took you in. My, that is surprising." She turned her gaze to Sherlock.

"Yes. I... suppose. I'm sorry, who are you?"

"An old friend of your "father's."" She added sarcastically. "You can see how it was rather a shock when Sherlock told me that he was a father."

"Right. Well, I don't see how any of this concerns you." She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hold back a string of swears threatening to break out.

"Oh. Well I'm acquainted with Moran. You know, the one that left you in his care." Irene looked like she was ready to devour the young girl. Rose bit her lip.

"Miss Adler. I believe that is enough." Mycroft bit out.

"Ah. Have you managed to thaw the Ice Man as well? You are special."

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" Rose yelled.

"Just to see you, but I can see I'm not wanted. I'll show myself out." Irene got out of the chair and started walking to the door. As she walked past Rose, she paused and kissed her cheek. Rose shuddered. Irene placed her fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at her. "Moran will stop at nothing to kill you, pet. I'd stick close to your daddy if I were you." She smirked before sauntering out of the room.

Rose started shivering and burst into tears. "What the hell is happening?" She whispered holding her head in her hands. Mycroft put his arm around her shoulders and lead her to the sofa.

"There, there, my Dear. It's alright. I won't let anything happen to you." John busied himself prepairing tea in the kitchen, knowing that everyone was going to need some calming down. Sherlock sat in his chair, studying Rose. Mycroft had his hand on her shoulder in, what was meant to be, a comforting way. Rose looked up at Sherlock while she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and sniffled. Sherlock knew that she was thinking about how he had introduced her to Irene as his daughter, but even if she asked, he wouldn't be able to explain his actions. He was glad when she instead asked,

"Who the hell was she?"

"Irene Adler. She worked with Moriarty for a short while. She was supposed to be dead, but people that Sherlock knows never seem to stay that way." Mycroft drawled. Rose nodded silently and sniffled. John came back carrying the tea.

"I'm sorry. I'll be alright." She tried to give the men a small smile. "Thank you so much for the beautiful room. It really does mean a lot to me."

"They redecorated your room?" John was shocked. Rose adamantly nodded her head.

"Yes. It's beautiful. It's T.A.R.D.I.S. blue and one wall is a chalk board and there's a flat screen tv..."

"I designed it while Mycroft hired people to redecorate it while we were away." Sherlock interjected.

"You never did that for me when I lived here." John put on a dejected face.

"You also don't kiss us on the cheek and call Mycroft "Uncle."" Sherlock smirked. Rose giggled while Mycroft turned decidedly pink.

"Well anyway the room is beautiful and I like calling you "Uncle."" Rose leaned over and kissed his cheek. Mycroft tried to remain stoic, but hints of his smile were seeping through the facade.

"Did you need me for anything else, Sherlock?" John asked, changing the subject.

"Hmm? Oh, no. That was it. You can return to your wife and child now." Sherlock was staring off into space

"Right, well. This has been interesting. I better be getting back. See you." John was standing up.

"I best be getting to work now. Enjoy your room, my Dear and you're very welcome to come over to my country home any time you'd like." Mycroft smiled fondly and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you, Uncle Mycroft. You've been really great." She smiled up at him. Mycroft cast one last glance at his younger brother before turning and following John down the stairs.

Rose sat nervously in the silence that now surrounded the flat. She glanced at Sherlock, who was avoiding looking at her. "I don't mind that you called me your daughter, Sherlock. You just... I, um... I'll just go upstairs." She timidly rose from her seat. "Thank you again for the room. It's exactly how I would have done it." She leaned over and quickly kissed his cheek before hurrying up the stairs, where she spent the remainder of the day. Sherlock looked at the staircase. He had made a terrible mistake referring to her as his daughter to The Woman, now there was even more risk that something would happen to Rose.

Sherlock was just about to enter his mind palace when something shiny caught his eye. He quickly grabbed the small, square item off of the table and held it up to exam. It was stainless steel and had the same tree design as Rose's necklace engraved on the front with the same gemstones. Obviously Mycroft had left it here for him. He turned it over and noticed a small semi-circle cut out on one side of the square. He pulled at the metal showing underneath. It was a pocket magnifying glass, rather like the one he already had, but slightly fancier.

Sherlock continued to look at the magnifying glass over when he noticed that it was slightly thicker than necessary. He examined the opposite end of the magnifying glass and pushed down gently. A secret compartment popped out that had just enough space to hold a small picture. Sherlock looked closely at the picture that was occupying the space now. It was a picture of a baby. It was a newborn baby by the looks of it and by the bright, blue eyes, Sherlock could immediately recognise that it was Rose.

He looked at the picture curiously. He examined her small nose and pink cheeks. Her eyes already seemed to be looking for answers to all of the questions that must run through baby's heads. He smiled gently and was rather surprised to feel a tear run down his cheek. He silently cursed Mycroft as he had just made it much harder to remain distant from this case. Of course, it could be a sign that maybe he shouldn't. All of this was so confusing. Since when did Mycroft become so sentimental? He did have to hand it to him though, that the design was rather clever. It was sturdy and useful, something he would always carry for work. It wasn't too embellished and the picture was hidden enough, so that if someone else should get hold of it, it wouldn't be immediately obvious of the sentimental value of it. It was all so much to think about. Sherlock eventually gave up and decided to play his violin.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello Everyone. I'm so sorry that I haven't posted lately. I was kind of nervous about posting this chapter. You'll have to let me know what you think. Thanks for everyone's continued support. Again, I don't own anything besides Rose.**

Sherlock woke up rather late the next morning, which wasn't terribly unusual, but he was surprised that Rose wasn't up yet. He shrugged, figuring that she had been though a lot in the past few days and it must be catching up to her. Sherlock had the tea and biscuits that Mrs. Hudson left for him and began another experiment. At noon, Sherlock realised that Rose had still not come down and decided to check on her. He was rather worried that perhaps she was mad at him for what had happened the day before, and he decided that he should try to clear things up with her.

"Rose? I wanted you to understand about yesterday. You see, I called you my daughter because it put her on edge and I..." Sherlock was cut off when he heard a groan of pain coming from the other side of the door. "Rose? Rose, are you alright?" When he didn't get an answer he quickly barged into her room. "Rose what's going..." Rose was curled up on the bed and biting her lip so hard it threatened to bleed. Sherlock quickly ran over to her side. "Rose! What's happened? How did you get hurt?" Sherlock was panicking and couldn't think straight.

"Cramps. I've got cramps." Rose moaned out.

"Cramps?" Sherlock said quietly before it finally clicked. "Oh, cramps! You're menstruating." Sherlock said excitedly at his deduction.

"Yes and it really hurts." Rose groaned again as another wave of pain washed over her. Sherlock quickly sobered back up.

"Can I help? Do you need me to get anything?"

"Painkillers. Heat pack. Something, anything. Oh, it huuuuurrrrttttssss. Ow." Rose buried her face into the pillow.

"Right, right. One moment." Sherlock replied before quickly exiting the room. He quickly came back with the painkillers and a glass of water. "Here. This should do for now. Do you have any cravings? Did you need me to go out and get you anything?" He peered nervously at her.

"Ice-cream... and cookies. I would really like some ice-cream and cookies please." She moaned again.

"Yes. I'll just pop out to the shop. I'll be back soon." He said before quickly squeezing her hand and leaving.

After about an hour, Sherlock finally returned home. Rose was sitting up against the headboard, holding her knees to her chest. "Sherlock? Were you making the ice-cream by hand? What took so long?" Sherlock poked his head through her bedroom door before entering with a few shopping bags in tow.

"I did a bit of research into relief for your menstral cramps, but yes. I did get your ice-cream and cookies. In fact, I got Ice-cream sandwiches. Kill two birds with one stone."

"Thanks. Just hand over the box." Rose said, holding out her hand.

"In your case it really will be a stone." Sherlocked huffed, pulling out the box.

"What? Oh shut up. I'm bleeding profusely here and I want ice-cream sandwiches."

"There's eight in this box!" Sherlock cried incredulously.

"Did you want one?" Rose rolled her eyes Sherlock nodded. "Fine. Take one and hand the rest over." Sherlock took one out of the box before handing them over and sitting down in the new desk chair.

"Do you want to see what else I got?" Sherlock asked as they both tucked into their ice-cream.

"Sure. I'm a bit better now, but the cramps still come back every once in awhile." Sherlock rifled through the bags.

"I bought you Midol, which is supposed to help with pain and bloating, do you feel bloated at all. It seems like rather an odd symptom considering you're losing quite a bit of liquid." Sherlock said thoughtfully.

"Well, If I wore jeans right now, they'd probably feel tighter than usual. So, yeah." Rose replied finishing her first sandwich.

"I bought some new heating packs that don't need to be microwaved. You just click the metal disk here." Sherlock said, ripping open the packaging to show her.

"Thanks. I'll take that now, please." Rose said as she unwrapped her second sandwich. She was able to be a bit more polite now that she wasn't in quite so much pain and she was eating ice-cream.

"I got you a yoga mat and a yoga dvd. Apparently that is supposed to help." Sherlock said, digging through the bag.

"I don't even feel like moving. How am I supposed to do yoga?" Rose moaned.

"I don't actually know." Sherlock paused, thinking about that predicament. He shrugged and rifled through the bags again. "Ah. Here we are. I also got you this." Rose looked up to see him holding a long, purple, smooth, plastic tube. "It's a vibrator." Sherlock announced. Rose choked on her sandwich.

"What!?" Rose exclaimed.

"It's a vibrator. Apparently some women find that achieving an orgasm can relieve the pain. This one is waterproof since I thought that you might want to use this in the bath. I also bought plenty of batteries." Sherlock seemed very proud of his forward thinking.

"Oh my God. I can't believe that you bought me a vibrator." Rose rubbed her face with her hands.

"It's a perfectly natural body function and it releases oxytocin, which is a natural pain reliever. If you must go through this every month, I'd rather have you find someway to help relieve the pain then let you lie around, curled up in pain and demanding me to go out and buy ice-cream. You certainly can't help me with cases like this." Sherlock gestured to her.

"Oh Lord. Most parents or guardians don't even want to think about their child's sexuality, nevermind buy them a viberator." Rose groaned. Sherlock frowned. Rose crumpled up her empty wrapper and tossed it in the rubbish bin. "Just come over here Sherlock. I just need a hug and a nap right now." Rose scooted over to make room for Sherlock. He moved onto the bed and propped himself up against the headboard. She curled up into his side. Sherlock placed a hand on her back and sat there quietly.

Rose was just falling asleep when the front door slammed shut and John came pounding up the stairs. "Sherlock! What the hell is...? Where are you?" John looked around the empty living room.

"We're up here, John. Rose was attempting to take a nap." John could hear the irritation in his friend's voice. John hurried up the stairs to his old bedroom and poked his head in the door.

"Sherlock what's going on?"

"Rose, here, had some menstrual cramps and she was about to take a nap." Sherlock glared at his friend. John huffed out a breath.

"No, you Prat. I mean outside. Why are there reporters outside?"

"What reporters?" Sherlock asked getting off of the bed. Rose groaned slightly and held the heating pad to her tummy. "There were no reporters when I went out twenty minutes ago." Sherlock pulled back the curtain slightly to look down at the street. Sure enough, reporters were clogging up the pavement and street. Sherlock's fist clenched. "The Woman." He said thoughtfully in his low beritone voice. "She told the press about Rose. Must have done it once I got back inside. Damn." He exclaimed. "Well, it's not safe for Rose here anymore. At least until this blows over." He was looking around the room. Rose looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"Do you need me to go somewhere else? I could call that Ms. Roberts."

"No." Sherlock cut her off. "I know somewhere quite safe. I'm not sending you away." His hard gaze softened a bit as he tried to console Rose. This did not go unnoticed by John, who bit back a smirk. "I'll call Mycroft and have him make the arrangements immediately." Sherlock nodded before heading downstairs.

"So. You've got cramps?" John attempted. Rose grimaced slightly and nodded her head.

"They're really awful. It feels like someone is twisting my insides." John nodded thoughtfully before walking over to her. His doctor side was starting to show.

"Do you have anything for the pain?" He asked, crouching to get a better look at her. Rose nodded.

"Yes. Sherlock went out and got some things."

"Really?" John asked incredulously.

"Yes. He got me Midol and stuff." Rose said quietly, hoping that John didn't notice her blush.

John continued examining Rose, to make sure that it wasn't something worse and to try to help alleviate the pain. Sherlock hurried back into the room and picked up her suitcase. "You're going to need to pack for a couple of days. I'm sure this will blow over soon enough." Sherlock said while looking out of the window.

"Where are we going, Sherlock?" Rose asked tentatively.

"My parent's." Sherlock answered bluntly.

A few minutes later a familiar black car pulled up in front of the house. Rose slung her purse over her shoulder and clutched the heating pad to her tummy. Sherlock came out of his bedroom wheeling his own suitcase. "Uncle Mycroft is here. Is he coming with us?" Rose looked at him expectantly. Sherlock nodded.

"At least for the first night. Mum is insisting that he stay for dinner." Sherlock took her suitcase and handed both of them to John.

"Alright. So, there are quite a few reporters down there. Don't talk to them. Just stay close to me and get in the car quickly. Can you make it down the stairs?" Sherlock asked, noticing that she was still gripping the heating pad rather tightly. Rose bit her lip. Without a word, Sherlock picked her up bridal style and made his way out the door, with John following behind.

Before opening the front door Sherlock took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength, before he opened the door and pushed his way through the crowd. Rose huddled tightly in his his arms and buried her face into his chest. John followed behind, trying to pacify the press so that he could hand off the luggage. The car door was opened and Sherlock yelled a quick "goodbye John" over his shoulder before sliding into the car with Rose sitting in his lap. They waited for a few moments while the luggage was stored in the boot and the driver took his seat behind the wheel, before making his way down the street and out of London.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello everyone. So here is yet another chapter. Let me tell you how much I love Sherlock's parents. They make me so unbelievably happy. I hope that you enjoy this bit. Again, I don't own anything besides Rose.**

The ride was fairly quiet. Rose fell asleep fairly quickly, while Sherlock tried to figure out their next move and Mycroft stayed in contact with the office via his phone. Occasionally, in her sleep, the cramps would worsen and she'd softly moan and call out for Sherlock, still referring to him as "Dad." Whenever she did this, Mycroft would smirk slightly and wonder how much longer until Rose called him that all of the time. Each time he was called, Sherlock would squeeze her hand and rub her cheek and gently whisper comforting words.

Finally, they pulled up to the small, cottage-styled house and Sherlock softly nudged her awake. They all got out of the car and were handed their luggage, before walking up the small path to the house. Before they got to the door, it was opened by a friendly looking older woman who ran out and was quickly followed by a smiling, older man. "Sherlock! Mycroft. Oh, I'm so glad you're here." She ran up and gave Mycroft a hug, followed by Sherlock. Once she pulled away, her face darkened and she gripped Sherlock's shoulders in a death grip. Sherlock noticeably stiffened. "Sherlock Holmes. How could you? You adopt a daughter and you don't even tell your Mother? The first I heard of it was Myc calling me, telling us that you need somewhere to hide from the press." She gave him the ever-classic disappointed mother look. She glanced at the girl who was nervously standing behind her son. "Oh! This must be Rose? Isn't she beautiful, Sigur?" Sigur Holmes smiled and nodded. Violet Holmes quickly went moved towards Rose and smiled brightly.

"Hello Mrs. Homes. Mr. Homes." Rose smiled and nodded towards them politely. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Oh, Darling, you've absolutely no idea how happy we are to meet you." She quickly scooped the small girl up into a tight embrace. Violet reluctantly let go of her to let her husband greet her properly.

"Hello Mr. Holmes. I'm sorry that we haven't met before, but Sherlock and Uncle Mycroft never told me about you." She glanced back at the two men in question that were silently shuffling their feet and looking guiltily at the ground.

"Trust them not to tell their parents that they're now grandparents." Violet shot them a venomous glare. "Nevermind calling us Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, Dear. If Mycroft gets to be Uncle, we get to be Granny and Grandpa." Rose smiled hopefully at them.

"Really? I've never had grandparents before. Are you sure that you want to be mine?" Violet Holmes looked at her in shock.

"Of course we do. We've wanted to be Grandparents since the boys decided to move out." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"We know." He and Mycroft said together.

"Myc told us that you are absolutely perfect for Sherlock and that if he didn't know better, he'd believe that he was your biological dad." Violet smiled brightly when she noticed her younger son blush slightly while Mycroft smirked.

"We couldn't ask for a prettier granddaughter." Sigur patted the top of her head affectionately. Rose turned a lovely shade of pink as she looked bashfully at the ground.

"Well, let's all get inside. I've got dinner started." Violet called out and everyone made their way to the door, Sigur walked with his arm wrapped around Rose's shoulders.

Once inside, they all sat down at the kitchen table and Violet checked on the meal. "Now, we have a lot of catching up to do. You have to tell us all about yourself and then we'll tell you about ourselves and about Sherlock and Mycroft when they were growing up."

"Oh, Mummy. Please don't." Mycroft moaned and rubbed his face in his hands.

"Mycroft. Your niece has every right to want to know what her Uncle's childhood was like." Violet looked at her son sternly.

"I, um, brought a photo album if you'd like. It might help me keep things organized." Rose said shyly.

"That's a wonderful idea." Violet smiled. Rose ran over to her bag and grabbed the album. Sigur and Violet crowded around her while she explained each photo. Sherlock and Mycroft stole quick glances, trying to look nonchalant about it. Sherlock had not yet looked though the photo album and was discovering that Rose had been a very sweet looking child with a warm, sunny smile, that translated into her being a rather beautiful, young woman with the same beautiful smile. Sherlock felt his heart grow with every picture.

Soon dinner was served and the table was filled with delicious food and lively conversation. Sherlock couldn't remember the last time his mother had looked so happy. "I do hope that Sherlock has been taking care of you. I suppose that it would be too much of a miracle for him to have cleaned his flat for you or at least gotten rid of his experiments." Violet grimaced.

"I quite like the place as is. It's bachelor chic and I don't mind the experiments. Sherlock and I conducted one on some fingers a few days ago and I had quite a bit of fun." Rose smiled at Sherlock. Sigur grinned, happy that his son found someone that loved his son for his eccentricities.

"Right. Well, good." Violet stared at her granddaughter, fairly shocked.

"Thank you for dinner, Granny. It was really good. Can I help clean up?"

"Never you mind that. You go and rest up. Sherlock, help clear the table. You wash, I'll dry."

"But..." Sherlock tried to protest, but was quickly silenced by a look from his mother. "Fine." He huffed and rolled his eyes.

Mycroft, Sigur, and Rose all made their way to the living room, while Sherlock clomped around the kitchen, angrily picking up the dishes.

"So, Granny was a mathematician?" Rose asked. Sigur smiled proudly and nodded.

"Yes. She's quite a genius. The boys take after her in that regard." Mycroft swirled around the scotch he had poured for himself, before taking a sip.

"This is all so new. I suddenly have a fairly large family. I never expected this." Rose looked around at the cozy room. They sat in comfortable silence for awhile, until Rose yawned. "I'm just going to change into my jammies." Rose stretched as she stood up. She quickly hurried into her room where her bag was now waiting.

"Sherlock, she's absolutely perfect. I'm a Grandmother!" She said excitedly, while wiping the dishes.

"Yes. I believe that was covered over dinner." He sunk his hands into the warm, soapy water. Violet ignored him.

"She so sweet and beautiful and smart. Sherlock, you must be so happy. You couldn't have picked a better daughter." She sighed dreamily. Sherlock stiffened.

"I'm not her father." Sherlock said quietly, not wanting Rose to overhear.

"What do you mean you're not her father? Just because you're not biologically..."

"No, Mum. I mean that I'm not cut out to be a father." Sherlock avoided his mother's gaze.

"Oh, Sweetheart." She said putting down the dishcloth and holding his face in her hands. "Nobody is ever ready to become a parent, but this girl was practically made for you. She's good for you and you're good for her."

Sherlock sighed and returned to washing the dishes. It was quiet for a few moments before Rose came padding into the kitchen. "I wanted to say 'thank you' and 'goodnight' before going off to bed." She said quietly. Violet turned around and absolutely beamed.

"Oh! You look absolutely adorable. Come here and give me a hug." She opened her arms and Rose quickly ran into them. She hugged Rose so tightly, that she feared that she wouldn't be able to breathe, but she was so happy to feel the love and warmth radiating from her Grandmother.

"Goodnight, Granny. Thank you for letting us stay here." Rose said when her granny finally pulled away slightly still holding her in her arms.

"Think nothing of it, Love. We're so happy to have you here." She kissed Rose on the cheek. Violet wrapped her arm around her shoulder and turned to face Sherlock. "Sherlock? Aren't you going to say goodnight to your adorable daughter?" Violet made sure that he couldn't back out of this. Sherlock turned nervously around to face Rose.

"Granny. Sherlock doesn't consider me his... well, I'm not. I call him Sherlock." Rose stuttered nervously. Sherlock looked down at her taking in her oversized shirt and pajama shorts with her hair in a messy bun.

"It's quite alright, Rose. Goodnight." Sherlock said tightly. Rose went over to him and hugged him gently.

"Sorry about that." She whispered into his ear. "Goodnight. I love you." She whispered before backing away. She gave them both a gentle smile before leaving the room.

Violet absolutely glowed as she returned to the dishes as Sherlock stared at the spot that Rose had just occupied. Rose had never actually told him that she loved him, although he had deduced it. Violet hummed happily with a smug, little grin on her face. "When are you going to admit that you're her father?" Her grin widened as she saw him frozen in space. Sherlock sucked in a breath and straightened up before returning to the dishes, pretending not to have heard his mother. Violet smiled happily. "Rose had a mother. She has an Uncle. a Grandpa, and a Grandma. All she needs now is a father." She looked dreamily at the plate she was drying. Sherlock hummed in response. Rose, this tiny girl that could barely take up a quarter of her bed, had taken up the largest room of his mind palace.

Sherlock was awoken that night by the gentle, but insistent shaking of his mother. "Sherlock. Wake up." She said in a loud whisper.

"Hmmph." Sherlock batted away her hand and attempted to roll over.

"Sherlock. Something is wrong with Rose and she won't wake up, but I think that she is asking for you." Sherlock's eyes popped open and he hoped out of bed, walking briskly to the bedroom next-door. Rose was curled up on her side, clutching her belly. She made pained whimpering noises in her sleep.

"Her cramps are bothering her. Check her luggage and get out the Midol and heating pack, then go get a glass of water." Sherlock said, not taking his eyes off of Rose. Violet dashed off, not bothering to remind her son of his manners. Sherlock strode quickly to the bed. He grasped her shoulder and kneeled beside the bed. "Rose. Rose you need to wake up." Sherlock said sternly.

"Daddy?" She cried in her sleep. Sherlock gulped quickly.

"Yes, Rose. I'm here, but you need to wake up so that I can help you." He gently shook her shoulder. Violet Holmes came rushing up the stairs, setting down the glass of water on the bedside table, along with the Midol. She gripped the heating pad tightly.

"Daddy?" She cried again.

"Yes, Rose. I'm here. Wake up, please?" Sherlock was almost pleading now. Finally, Rose cracked an eye open with a sob.

"Sher... Sherlock." She was sobbing. Sherlock took the heating pad from his mother and activated it before putting it near her belly, before she grabbed for it and held it close and then wrapped her arms around his neck. "It... hurts... so..." She broke into another sob.

"I know, but I need you to take these pills. Can I help you sit up?" He asked. Rose nodded and held onto his neck.

Carefully, he stood up slightly, before putting his arm underneath her legs and lifting her and spinning around so that he sat on the bed, with her on his lap. Violet handed him the glass of water and the pills that she had readied, both shocked and pleased with her son's behaviour. Rose gingerly took the pills out of his hand and raised them to her mouth before Sherlock raised the glass to her lips to help her drink. When she swallowed the pills, she clung onto Sherlock's neck and calmed down, while Sherlock rubbed soothing circles on her back. Sherlock looked at his mother. "Thank you for helping. I think that she'll be alright now. You can go back to bed." She smiled at him gently before moving forward and brushing the stray hair out of Rose's eyes and leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. She did the same action to her son.

"Goodnight Sherlock. Let me know if you need any help." Sherlock nodded and held Rose closer to him. He started rocking back and forth, scarcely making a movement at all and started humming Brahm's lullaby, which his mother used to sing to him. The vibrations of Sherlock's baritone voice, quickly lulled Rose back to sleep, but he held her still, rocking back and forth. Violet stood outside of the barely open door, smiling, before quickly turning back towards her bedroom; leaving before her son caught her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Alright. So here is another chapter. I want to thank everyone for their wonderful reviews. I get insanely happy with each one. I had one guest who asked for a scene where Rose helped him solve a case and I had to agree that that was a brilliant idea. So, I already had this chapter typed up and just had to rework it. I hope that it works. Anyway, enjoy. Again, I don't own anything and unfortunately I don't Don't Stop Believin' either.**

The next morning Rose was practically hopping down the stairs. She breezed into the kitchen, bubbling with happiness. "Good morning Grandpa." She bent down and kissed the smiling, older man while he read the newspaper. "Good morning Uncle Mycroft." She moved over to Mycroft, who smiled warmly and patted her hand. "Good morning Granny." She wrapped her arms around the older woman's waist. Violet had on the brightest smile as she eagerly wrapped the girl in a tight embrace.

"Good morning Rose, dear. Are you feeling better?" She pulled back slightly to look down at her granddaughter and pinched her cheeks gently. Rose nodded enthusiastically "You look so adorable this morning. I'm so lucky to have a such a beautiful granddaughter." She smiled warmly down at her.

"Granny. I just woke up. I look awful. I'm not adorable enough to earn all of these 'adorables' that you're throwing at me." She playfully swatted away at her hands.

"As your Grandmother, it is my right to tell you just how adorable you are and I missed out on the first fifteen years of being able to tell you just that, so I have quite a bit of catching up to do." Rose giggled quietly before turning towards Sherlock. "Good morning Sherlock." Sherlock was sitting at the table, engaged in his phone. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. Sherlock gave the smallest hint of a smile and leaned in gently so she could have better access to his cheek.

"I hope you're hungry. I've made pancakes with eggs and bacon."

"Sounds delicious. Thanks." Rose said, plopping into the seat beside Sherlock.

After breakfast, Violet and Sigur left, saying that they had to go to the stores for a few hours. Mycroft went to his room to do a bit of work and Sherlock laid on the couch in the living room deep in his mind palace, while Rose sat on the floor watching telly. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Rose looked at Sherlock expectantly. Sherlock stared back at her blankly.

"Um. Are you going to get it?" Rose asked carefully, a grin threatening to take over her features. "I just thought that if it's a reporter..." Sherlock jumped up and briskly walked to the door.

"Ah. Lestrade. Couldn't go twenty-four hours without me?" Sherlock said as way of greeting.

"I'm here to see Rose, you git. Got her a present. Something to help her survive living with you." Rose quickly got up and went to greet the inspector.

"Hello Greg. How are you doing? Is there a case?" She asked while giving him a hug.

"Well, I wanted to see how you were doing. I went to Baker Street and saw all of the reporters and hoped that you were okay. So, I asked John where I could find you and he gave me this address. I also thought that this would be a good chance to give you this. It's to help you survive living with Sherlock." He grinned and handed her a large, black gift-wrapped box with caution tape for the ribbon.

"Oh. Thank you. Everyone's just been too nice." She said, tearing at the ribbon. When it was finally opened, she dug inside and pulled out a rather large first-aid kit; a box of plastic gloves; a tub of sanitary wipes; her own black, pocket magnifying glass; and, much to Sherlock's chagrin, a deerstalker cap.

"Some of it is to help him with his cases, some of it's to make sure that you aren't inadvertently poisoned while at the flat." He grinned. Rose chuckled as she tried on the cap.

"What do you think? I feel like I should be smoking a pipe while wearing this." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"All the more reason not to wear it. Filthy habit, smoking." Lestrade gave Sherlock a pointed look, to which, Sherlock gave him a warning glare; telling him not to say anything. Rose merely grinned and looked through the rest of the box.

"This is fantastic. Thank you Greg. It means a lot." She gave him another hug. "But, I also know that you wouldn't have come out this far just to check on me, when you could have just texted Sherlock and I'm sure that you could have waited to give me this lovely gift." She made sure to compliment the gift again, not wanting him to think her ungrateful. "So, where is the case?" She smiled.

"My God. What have you done to her already Sherlock?" Greg gaped at her like a fish.

"Nothing. She just one of the few people that observes the world around her." Sherlock puffed out his chest slightly, full of pride for Rose.

"Right. Well, you got me. The case is just over by the train tracks, a few miles outside of the next village over. She's been identified as a resident of that village and had bought a train ticket to go to london, but she didn't tell anyone why she was leaving and didn't have anything stolen from her. We figured that since you're here..." He trailed off.

"That's barely a six." Sherlock huffed.

"Um. Could I come? I wasn't doing anything anyway and I think that it could be fun." She bit her bottom lip and looked up at the inspector with wide eyes.

"I'm really not supposed to. I mean technically, Sherlock shouldn't..."

"Fine. If it can help stave off boredom, then I suppose that we could take a quick look." Sherlock rolled his eyes, secretly excited that Rose wanted to visit a crime scene. Greg tried and failed, to hide his grin.

"I'll just go get changed. I'll be one moment" She yelled over her shoulder, while running to her bedroom.

Once at the crime scene she jumped out of the car and hurriedly put on a pair of the plastic gloves and pulled out her new magnifying glass and her phone for taking pictures. Sherlock was already looking over the body and putting his deductions together.

"So, what is it that we know about her?" She asked Greg.

"Well, she's twenty-six years old. She lived by herself in the village as the librarian. She was quiet and didn't have any boyfriends."

"Yes she did." Sherlock interrupted. "She apparently bought the train ticket about five minutes before it left the station, apparently she didn't seem to care where exactly it was going based on the lack of makeup and mismatched socks. She just wanted to leave this place. The train left at twelve a.m. where she had her head bashed in and was thrown from the train." Sherlock finished with his deduction. Rose was quite impressed, but she held back the laugh that was threatening to burst for at his demonstration.

"So, what you're telling me is that this is a small-town girl. Who was living in a lonely world and she took the midnight train going anywhere?" Rose looked up at him innocently. Lestrade smirked behind Sherlock.

"Well, not in so many... what on earth do you mean?" Sherlock looked terribly confused. Lestrade decided that he wasn't going to miss this opportunity and decided to pipe up.

"That should seem rather _obvious_, Sherlock. It seems to me that we should be looking for a city boy who was born and raised in South Detroit. Who also took the midnight train going anywhere." He gave Sherlock his most serious Detective Inspector face. Sherlock just stared at him. He was somewhat startled by Rose speaking again, rather excitedly this time.

"What about a singer in a smokey room?" She looked pointedly at Greg, who put on a "eureka" face and went to kneel by the body to examine it. He pretended to sniff at the woman's shirt.

"With the smell of wine and cheap perfume." He replied thoughtfully. Sherlock was starting to look quite exasperated.

"Well for a smile they could share the night." Rose said in a very detective sounding voice as Greg stood and walked towards her when they finally got to the punchline. At the exact same moment, they kicked the air, slammed on their air-guitars, and sang with so much enthusiasm that the rest of the police force stopped and stared at them.

"IT GOES ON AND ON AND ON AND OOOONNNNN!" Sherlock rolled his eyes, finally understanding what they were doing and Greg and Rose broke into fits of giggles and high-fived.

"Well if you two are done acting like a couple of twelve year olds...: Sherlock huffed.

"Oh, please. Twelve year olds wish they could be this cool." Rose retorted. Sherlock rolled his eyes again and continued examining the body.

Rose grinned and joined Sherlock beside the body. "Any idea what the murder weapon is?"

"Yes, but let's hear yours first"

Rose nodded. "Well..." She glanced over the body. "I've got one theory and I believe that it is correct."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her and was clearly doubting her abilities.

"She was obviously hit from behind, that we know, but she was facing her attacker. She was pushed into a metal pole on the train." Sherlock squinted at her. "She's got mud on the top of her shoe. If you want to make sure that someone falls when you push them, you step on their foot and push suddenly with a lot of force, so they can't step backwards." Both the inspector and the consulting detective stared at her blankly. "I don't think that this person necessarily meant to kill her. On her shirt, look." She held her magnifying glass up to the spot on the woman's chest that she was talking about. "There's some black spots. Now it could be mud, but this drip mark is from straight above and there wasn't any rain her to make puddles or anything in the past few days. Besides this is darker than the other dirt on her clothes. This is mascara from the woman who was crying over her trying to drag her off of the train. So, to drag a woman this size off of the train, fairly quickly, you'll need a woman who's above one hundred forty-five pounds and with..." She plucked a hair off of the coat that was peaking out from under the collar. "dark, curly hair."

Lestrade's mouth gaped open, while Sherlock stared at her wide-eyed.

"Did I miss anything?" She asked, finally looking up at them.

"Uh." Lestrade turned to Sherlock. Sherlock shook his head and looked over the body

"No." Sherlock barely answered. That was exactly what he had seen when he looked over the body. Sherlock was just such in shock from someone else, other than his brother, who saw what he saw. "That's correct." He said without looking away. Lestrade finally huffed out an amused chuckle that was more of an exhalation of breath.

"Right, well, I'll go look for her then." Lestrade said quietly before standing up and going to tell the other officers on duty.

Rose gave a small smile to Sherlock, who finally snapped out of his trance.

"Well done." He said softly.

"Thank you." Her smile grew wider.

Taking one last look at the body, she smiled to herself, proud of her deductions. They both stood up and walked back towards the car.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey. So I'm uploading another chapter. Sorry that it's really short, but I do hope that you enjoy it. The bit about the glasses was inspired by this post on tumblr post/81719292216/finalproblem-mrs-holmes-i-said-have-you **

**I love the thought of Sherlock paying just enough attention to the story to figure out what to get his Dad for christmas. So of course, please enjoy and if you find the time, review. Again, I don't own anything.**

"That was so much fun. Can I come with you on more cases?" She was looking through her magnifying glass. Sherlock grinned.

"As long as I don't have to suffer though anymore of your and Lestrade's horrible singing." Rose rolled hers eyes and grinned. "What was that anyway? Was that The Hives?" Sherlock asked.

"What?" Rose furrowed her brows in confusion. "The Hives? OH! You mean the song. No. That was Journey. Why would you think that's the Hiv... Wait! You've never heard "Don't Stop Believin'"? Weren't you alive in the eighties?" Rose was astonished that he hadn't heard the song.

"Of course I was, but I was fairly young and the song isn't really important, must have deleted it." He said absentmindedly.

"Not important other than it being a good song." Rose put away her magnifying glass as they pulled up in front of the house.

Once they entered the kitchen, Rose set down her bags on the counter. "Hello Love. Did you and Sherlock have fun?" His mother asked hurrying into the kitchen to give them both a hug.

"Mum! We were at a crime scene. It wasn't even a very good one." Sherlock huffed. Rose smacked him gently on the arm.

"We had lots of fun. Greg got me some things to help out at crime scenes, we sang Journey, I helped solve the crime. It was great." Violet Holmes hugged Rose and smiled down at her.

"Well, while we were out we got you a present. Siggy! Could you bring in the present please?" Violet yelled to her husband in the living room. Sigur can shuffling in with a big smile on his face, holding a large purple box. "We asked Myc what you would like." Violet explained.

"Thank you. This is really nice of you. I don't think I've ever gotten this many presents before." Rose smiled, taking the box from her grandfather's hands.

"We have a lot of holidays to make up for." Sigur smiled down at her.

Rose unwrapped the present and almost screamed. "Oh my God! You got me a laptop. It's beautiful! Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, Love." Sigur wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulder as they smiled down at Rose. Rose kissed each of her grandparents on the cheek.

"Thank you Grandpa. Thank you Granny. I can't believe this." Rose quickly divested her laptop of its packaging and went to work on setting it up.

Later that afternoon, Rose was sitting in the living room on her laptop looking at Tumblr. Sherlock was sitting watching some crap telly. "Sherlock?"

"Hm." The detective responded.

"Did you know that you and John have been shipped?" She asked, not taking her eyes off of her computer screen.

"We've been what?" Sherlock furrowed his brows.

"You've been shipped. It's short for relationship. It means that people want to see you together. They've dubbed you Johnlock." Sherlock nodded thoughtfully. "Aww look! You two make a cute couple." Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. Rose continued scrolling. Suddenly her eyebrows shot up and she blushed horrendously. "Does John normally wear Red briefs?"

"I'm not... sure. Are people drawing that now?" Rose nodded her head.

"And writing about it. I've made sure to try to keep out all of the explicit art and writings, thank you very much."

Sherlock relaxed back onto the sofa. "They were speculating about us in the papers. John hated it." He smirked. Rose grinned as well.

"Sherlock. Could I see you a moment." Sigur Holmes was standing in the doorway. Sherlock silently got up and followed his father into the office room.

"I seem to have misplaced my glasses. Help me find them, will you?" Sigur said, looking around the room.

"You wouldn't happen to be speaking about the glasses hanging 'round your neck would you?" Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at his father.

"Hm? Oh. These?" Sigur held up the glasses that were indeed hanging around his neck. "Ah. Yes. I am always misplacing them." Sherlock resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

"Yes. That's why I got you that glasses string... thing last christmas Dad." He gave him a tight-lipped smile. Sigur smiled and nodded innocently. Sherlock grabbed the door handle and began to open it. "Well, since I've found them, I'll just be getting back..."

"Just one moment. Please." This time Sherlock did roll his eyes as he closed the door.

"Yes, Dad? What is it? Did Mum tell you to talk to me? Because she already made sure..."

"No, no. I just wanted to talk to you. I haven't had anytime alone with you since you've been here and I thought that as a new father, you might want some advice from your own Father." Sherlock huffed out a breath.

"Dad, she's really not my daughter. I mean, if you and Mum want to play Grandma and Grandpa along with "Uncle Mycroft,"" He said with a sneer. "That's fine, but you must see that I'm certainly not her father."

"Not right now you're not." His father replied, wiping some invisible dirt from his glasses.

"Oh please, Dad. Don't tell me you think that eventually I'm going to have a sudden epiphany, telling me that I love this girl as a daughter and then we'll hug and live happily, ever after?" Sherlock curled his lip disdainfully.

"Well, you did always like dramatics. Your Mother and I thought that you'd become an actor after all of that pirate business." He smiled at his son. "Sherlock, I know you a bit better then you might think. You take after my brother."

"Uncle Rudy? The cross-dressing one?" Sherlock asked rather incredulously. Sigur merely nodded.

"You see, before Uncle Rudy started cross-dressing, he was married to your former Aunt Elizabeth. When your cousin Richard was born, Rudy was absolutely terrified."

"I'm not scared of a fifteen year old..." Sigur interrupted him by raising a hand.

"Let me finish. He was horrified of the responsibilities that would entail and he confided in me that he was worried that he would let the child down and they wouldn't love him." Sherlock merely stared at his father silently. "Then of course Elizabeth left him for that car-salesman and he was in charge of his son."

"Yes, well Richard didn't have a good relationship with him growing up." Sherlock tried to protest.

"Yes. They had their problems, as all families do." Sigur cocked an eyebrow at his son. "But now they're quite happy. They marched together in the pride parade. Do you want to see the pictures?" Sherlock shook his head. "All I'm trying to say Sherlock, is that whether you believe it or not, this girl believes in you and she loves you dearly. Right now, she needs a strong parent figure in her life and as long as you love and care for the girl, she'll forgive any mistakes that all parents are prone to make along the way."

Sigur clasped his hands behind his back and looked expectantly at Sherlock. Sherlock clasped his hands in front and looked down at the ground. "Yes, well, thank you for the advice." Sherlock said quietly. Without another word, he turned around and left the office.

When he reentered the living room, Rose looked up from her computer screen and smiled at him. He smiled back before sitting on the sofa. Sherlock stared at the tv, but didn't pay any attention to what was going on. He was deep in his mind palace, sifting through all of the new information he had just been given.

The rest of the week passed by rather quietly. Mycroft had left the next day to get back to the office. Rose helped Violet with baking and catching her Grandmother up on her childhood. She marathoned Downton Abbey with her grandfather and talked to him about the Holmes family background. Rose also spent time trying to occupy Sherlock's time, not wanting him to get too bored. By the end of the week, Mycroft had called to say that it was all clear and sent a car for their journey home.

"Ah. Nice to be home again." Rose said upon entering the flat and setting down her bags. Sherlock merely nodded and sat down in his chair picking up his laptop. He quickly looked through all of his emails, but it seemed that while he was away, nobody felt like murdering anyone in any interesting fashions, so he set down the laptop and huffed out a breath. "Sherlock?" Rose was lying down on the couch.

"Hm?" Sherlock lay back in his chair with his legs splayed out and a bored look on his face.

"I've been looking at different schools for me to attend and I was wondering if you would prefer that I go to a boarding school." Sherlock peered at her quizzically. "Well, it's just that I don't want to get in your way all of the time and you might find me a bit of a nuisance. I figured that if I went to a boarding school, I wouldn't get on your nerves." She explained it in such a matter of fact fashion, Sherlock was almost hurt that after all that had happened, she would still believe that he would grow tired of her and stop caring for her.

"Nonsense. It wouldn't be safe anyway. Besides, if John's working and dealing with a baby, I'll need someone to go on case's with me." Rose attempted to hide a small smile and nodded her head before relaxing back onto the sofa.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey there. Sorry for the wait, but life got in the way. I hope that you like this chapter. It's Sherlock and Baby Kensie all being supervised by Rose. Also, for the end of the chapter, Sherlock totally fancies himself an Indiana Jones sort of character, you can't convince me otherwise. Enjoy. Again, I own nothing.**

A few days later, it was a Wednesday evening. Rose was sitting, quietly reading while Sherlock played his violin. They were interrupted when John and Mary came through the door. "Hey, um, sorry to bother you, but Mary and I were planning on going out tonight and our sitter has cancelled. We tried asking Mrs. Hudson, but she's got her own date night planned. Could you watch Kensie for just a few hours?" John asked quickly before Sherlock could protest.

"Of course we will." Rose said excitedly, also before Sherlock could protest. Rose jumped off of the couch and went over to Mary, who was holding the baby carrier. Rose soon unbuckled Kensie and picked her up into a quick hug. "Hello Pumpkin. Look at you, you gorgeous creature." She said while making funny faces at the little girl. Kensie giggled happily.

"I'm really not sure that that is a great idea..."

"Of course it is." Rose cut him off. "She's a quiet, little baby and she loves you." She made another silly face at Kensie. "Don't you? Yes you do, little monkey-pie." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Is that your Uncle Sherlock? Isn't he the silliest. Oh, he's just so silly. Look at him." Kensie giggled happily. Sherlock tried to conjure up as much disdain in one look as he could.

"Oh, come off it Sherlock. Take care of your goddaughter for one night, while I treat my Missus." John almost pleaded. Sherlock huffed out a breath.

"Fine. As long as this doesn't become a regular thing. Now go. Enjoy your boring dinner at a boring restaurant surrounded by boring people."

"Oh! Thank you, your Highness. We are eternally grateful." Mary made a show of bowing before dragging her husband out of the flat before John punched him.

The door was closed and the flat fell silent. "Well, little Miss. What are we to do with you?" Rose tickled Kensie's tummy, which made a hungry, gurgely sound. "Ah. Right. Well then, I'll have to feed you, won't I? Here, Uncle Sherlock is going to hold you for a little bit, while I get a bottle ready for you." Sherlock tried, in vain, to protest, but Rose plopped Kensie into his arms and set off to make a bottle.

Sherlock held the small girl peering at her consciously. Kensie looked up at him, her little mouth making an "O" shape. When Rose started humming a song while in the kitchen, Kensie must have decided that she rather liked her Godfather and smiled at him. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at her. It was then that her tummy rumbled again, which caused Kensie to look down at her little, round belly before her bottom lip quivered and she burst into a surprisingly loud sob.

"Rose! She's crying! Why is she crying?" Sherlock was aghast and completely out of his element.

"She's just hungry Sherlock. I'll be there in a few moments." She called from the kitchen.

"Yes. But what do I do with her now?" Sherlock cried.

"Try to distract her, comfort her." Rose was losing her patience.

Sherlock quickly bent down and pulled out one of her many toys from the nappy bag. "Here." He muttered before handing it off to Kensie, who took absolutely no interest in it. In fact, she cried harder. "It's not working!" Sherlock yelled.

"Oh, for pete's sake. Here." Rose stormed into the living room, holding out her hands to take Kensie. "You go warm up the bottle. I'll take her." Sherlock happily handed over the baby before realising that he didn't know how to warm up the bottle.

"Uh..."

"Put the bottle in the hot water and test the milk frequently on the inside of your wrist until it's just nice and warm, not hot." Rose said, immediately understanding his dilemma. He hurried off to the kitchen.

Rose walked around with Kensie, gently bouncing her up and down and soothing her, all while talking to her or singing quietly. "I thought that you said that you don't have much experience with babies." Sherlock asked, returning from the kitchen with the bottle.

"I don't, but there's this thing called "Google" and, like, you can type in a question and it will, like, give you websites that answer your question." Rose replied in her best valley girl voice, while taking the bottle from Sherlock. "Mary called earlier today to let me know that the sitter had cancelled and Mrs. Hudson was busy. We thought it was best to not let you get a chance to come up with an argument against it." She smirked at him. Sherlock stared down at her, shocked. "There we go. Look how happy she is now." Kensie happily slurped away at her bottle.

After that was done and Kensie was burped and changed into her pyjamas, they all sat down to relax while Sherlock resumed playing his violin. After a little while, Kensie began to yawn and rub her eyes. "I'm going to try to get her to sleep. We'll put her in your bed for now." Rose said, standing up, cradling Kensie close to her. Sherlock nodded and Rose walked off to his bedroom.

After a few moments, some muffled cries could be heard coming from the bedroom. Sherlock shrugged, believing Rose to have it in order. It wasn't until a few minutes later and the cries escalated that Rose came out of the bedroom. "She's exhausted, but she won't go to sleep. I don't know what to do. I've tried walking around and talking to her, singing to her. She's just not having any of it."

"Should I call John?" Sherlock asked. Suddenly Kensie went quiet. Rose peered down at the little girl who was still fighting sleep.

"No. I don't think so." Kensie started crying again.

"Well, what are you going to do?" Kensie stopped crying again. Rose, again, looked down at the baby girl, but this time a smile brightened over her face.

"Here. Take her." She said holding out, the now crying baby.

"What? I don't want her. She's too busy crying." Sherlock held up his hands in protest.

"Sherlock, for the love of God, take her." She gave him a menacing look. Sherlock gulped before he complied.

"Now what?" He asked her, gaining back some of his confidence.

"Talk to her. She likes the sound of your voice."

"That's ridiculous. I hardly believe that she would have a preference..." Sherlock quieted as Kensie stopped crying. Rose looked pointedly at him. "Right. Well, what do I talk to her about?"

"Anything. Tell her about your last case." Rose said.

"She's not going to understand anything about it." Sherlock whined

"You might as well get her started now, Sherlock." Rose insisted.

"Fine." Sherlock ground out as he walked over to his case wall.

Sherlock spoke quietly to the young girl, gently rocking her in his arms. As he spoke he imagined Rose as she was a baby. Her Mother walking around, perhaps talking about her day. A day that didn't include murders and that was probably considerably more normal than the day he was talking about to Kensie. He recalled the picture that was always in the pocket of his Belstaff coat. He looked at the picture far more than he woudl care to admit. He pictured her little nose and rosy cheeks. She seemed so small and he wondered how it would have felt to hold her. How her small amount of weight would feel in his arms. He felt a tinge of jealousy for no being the one that had held her when she was a baby, but soon remembered that had he been the one to raise her, she wouldn't be nearly as wonderful as she is now.

Finally, after a few moments of Sherlock telling Kensie all about his last case, she calmed down and fell asleep. Rose gently lifted her out of his arms and walked quietly down the hall to his bedroom. She made sure to leave the door ajar, before quietly making her way back to the living room and sitting down in John's old chair. Sherlock sat there quietly with his fingers steepled against his lips.

"You did a great job today, Sherlock. You must be proud." She smiled warmly at him. He grinned back at her, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "They should hand over the father of the year award to you right now." Sherlock's face dropped. Rose grew somber as she studied him for a moment.

"Why do you do that?" She asked quietly.

"Do what?" He was playing obtuse.

"Act all weird whenever... fatherhood is mentioned. You... get all nervous or something."

"I'm not nervous. Why would you think that I'm nervous?" Sherlock looked at her, trying to hide his nervousness.

"You totally shut down and when someone mentions it, you start rambling." Sherlock had opened his mouth and closed it, before he could start rambling. He decided to merely huff out a breath and sink deeper into the chair. Rose gave a small, sad smile. "Are you sure that you don't want me to go to a boarding school? It would be a lot easier on you." Sherlock looked at her questioningly.

"Why are you so worried about whether or not I want you here? If I didn't want you here, I would have had Mycroft take care of you somehow." He frowned. Rose bit her lip and nervously looked at the ground.

"Well, you live such an amazing life. You'll grow bored of me. Besides, it's not really fair to you that I was tossed into your life and nobody would blame you if you sent me to a boarding school. They'd probably think that that was the best course of action." She replied.

Sherlock sighed. "I'm not going to grow bored of you, Rose and what was really unfair was that you have to depend on me to take care of you."

"I just don't want you doing these things to be nice." Tears were welling up in her eyes.

"Anyone can tell you that I don't do things "to be nice."" He scoffed.

"But we both know that that isn't true, is it, Sherlock?" She looked him dead in the eye. "You are a detective, you help people. You could have easily gone the route of Moriarty. You make sure to keep your friends and family safe. You played dead for two years to protect the people that you love. You've opened up your home to me and made it as comfortable as possible by decorating my room to my tastes. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done, but I'm offering you a "get out of jail free" card. Uncle Mycroft would make sure that I'm safe and I could stay with Granny and Grandpa on holidays..."

"Do you want to leave then?" Sherlock asked bitterly. "Because if you really want to I'm sure that we could arrange something else for you." Sherlock couldn't explain why exactly he felt hurt at the prospect of her not wanting to stay with him. It hurt deep in his chest and he just wanted to tell her that if she left now, he'd worry about her constantly and would feel incredibly lonely, but if she truly wanted to leave, he didn't have the heart to make her unhappy by keeping her here.

"Of course I don't want to leave, Sherlock. I love it here. I love Mrs. Hudson and John and Mary and Uncle Mycroft. I have a family here and it would break my heart, but I need to know that you are doing these things, not because you feel responsible for me, but because you... care. I'll only ask you this once and I'll never ask again... Do you care about me Sherlock?" Her eyes were wide and pleading and it broke Sherlock's heart that she felt the need to ask.

He wanted to tell her that she meant the world to him and he would do anything to see her smile. He adored the sweet, small kisses she bestowed upon his cheek and would suffer through twice as much as he did in Serbia just to earn her love for him. He meant to tell her that he would really jump off of a building if it meant keeping her safe. She was the brightness in his dark world and her happy smiles and cheerful giggles were worth more than any case he could ever go on. He wanted to tell her all of that, but it was stuck in his throat. If she only knew that despite his nervousness, he loved hearing people refer to him as her Father and that he saw her as a daughter from the first night she stayed there, she would never have reason to doubt his love again, but as it stood all she would ever know was that he... cared.

"Yes." He said quietly.

Rose gave him a small smile. "So you won't act weird when people mention you being my father? Because, basically you are now, even if you're not." Sherlock nodded. "Good. Well, that was a lot for one night. I'm going to make some hot chocolate."

Rose walked off to the kitchen, smiling gently. Sherlock sat in his chair with his fingers steepled against his lips when the front door opened and footsteps were heard climbing the stairs. "Hey. Is Kensie safe. She hasn't ingested anything harmful or played with anything dangerous, has she?" John came through the door, trying to sound like he was joking, while sounding quite worried.

"She's fine. She's sleeping." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I am an adult. I'm quite capable of taking care of a baby for a few hours."

"Yeah. Not buying it." John frowned and shook his head.

"Cut it out, Guys. Kensie is safely and peacefully asleep on Sherlock's bed and Sherlock is the one who got Kensie to go to sleep." Rose smiled up at Sherlock, while he smirked at his best friend.

"Thank you, Rose. You've just proven that you are not only capable of looking after a baby for a few hours, but can also settle down a pair of overgrown toddlers in the same night. Well done." Mary shook her head at her idiot husband and his equally imbecilic best friend.

"It's no trouble, really. Why don't you three come over for dinner tomorrow? We could have some take-out and hang-out." Rose said hopefully.

"That would work. Yeah, we'll come by tomorrow evening." Mary replied. "Now, I'm going to get my child and get home to bed." John noticeably perked up. Rose bit back a giggle and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

After they left, Rose and Sherlock drank their hot chocolate and made light conversation. They talked about cases that Sherlock had worked on and school projects that Rose had done in the past. Rose would talk about movies that she liked and Sherlock divulged that he loved watching Indiana Jones. She should him the music on her iPod so that he could finally hear the Hives (He wasn't keen.) He played her one of his compositions and she happily applauded after it was over. Overall, it was a marvelous night.

When she became so tired that she had a hard time keeping her eyes open, she stood up and yawned and stretched before kissing him on the cheek. "Goodnight Sherlock. I love you." Sherlock gave her a small smile in reply. He watched her carefully as she left to climb the stairs up to her room.


End file.
